A loud sob from Emilia checked his foot.
"You are cruel," he heard her say.
"If it is good, I tell it you; if it is bad; abominable, I tell it you, juste ze same," responded Mr.Pericles.
"The others did not think it very bad." "Ah! bah!" Mr.Pericles cut her short.
Had they been talking of matters secret and too sweet, Wilfrid would have retired, like a man of honour.

As it was, he continued to listen.
The tears of his poor little friend, moreover, seemed to hold him there in the hope that he might afford some help.
"Yes; I do not care for the others," she resumed.

"You praised me the night I first saw you." "It is perhaps zat you can sing to z' moon," returned Mr.Pericles.
"But, what! a singer, she must sing in a house.

To-night it is warm, to-morrow it is cold.

If you sing through a cold, what noise do we hear?
It is a nose, not a voice.