‘Bête!’ returned the angry Frenchman, bestowing a savage kick on one of the unoffending pups which was frisking about his feet. The pup yelped; the slut barked and leaped furiously at the offender, and was only kept from biting him by Sam, who could scarcely hold her back for laughing; the captain was uproarious; the offended Frenchman alone maintained a severe and dignified aspect.

The sea tossed and jostled Rose and a tenderful of Willies.

An octet of waiters sang her Happy Birthday.

Don’t start with me: I’m not in the mood.