"Is it like Kit—is it his picture, his image, his very self?"—Chap. lxii.
The Marchioness jumped up quickly, and clapped her hands—Chap. lxiv.
She had nothing for it now, therefore, but to run after the chaise—Chap. lxv.
Tom immediately walked upon his hands to the window, and—if the expression be allowable—looked in with his shoes—Chap. lxvii.