Were these the features--was this the aspect--from which virtue had so often derived its encouragement and wrongdoing its reproof?
Was this the figure the ladies of Troy had been wont to follow with all but idolatrous gaze?
Nay, who was this man--unshaven, unkempt, unbewigged, smeared with mud from head to foot, and from scalp to jaw with commingling bloodstains?
The Major groaned incredulous, horrified; gazed, shuddered, and groaned again.
"Mind you," said Mr.Sturge reassuringly, "I'm not calling the truth of your story into question for a moment.

But under the circumstances you'll allow it was a trifle stiff." "It is true to the last particular," insisted the Major, recovering his dignity.
"But come, now! Without a penny in your pocket, or so much as a scrap of paper to identify you, you'll admit it was stiff?
Look here," he went on with a change of tone, slipping his arm amicably within the Major's, "I've an idea.

Comrades in adversity, you know, and all that sort of thing.

I've taken a liking to you, and can do you a good turn.

Drop that yarn of yours--'yarn,' seafaring expression; odd how one catches the _colour_, so to speak.
Drop that yarn of yours.