"He melts, I think. He goes like a drop of froth. You look at him, and there he is. You look at him again, and—there he isn't"—Chap. x.
Father and Son—Chap. xv.
"Come, come, master," cried the fellow, urged on by the looks of his comrades, and slapping him on the shoulder; "Be more companionable and communicative. Be more the gentleman in this good company"—Chap. xvi.
With that he advanced, and bending down over the prostrate form, softly turned back the head and looked into the face—Chap. xvii.
