She's quite as much above my line as she is above her father's." "Well, she is above them all.

They say she would hardly as much as speak to the old gentleman." "What, her father ?" "No, Mr Harding; he that chanted the Litany just now.

There he is, sir, coming out of the deanery." They were now standing at the door leading out from one of the transepts, and Mr Harding passed them as they were speaking together.
He was a little, withered, shambling old man, with bent shoulders, dressed in knee-breeches and long black gaiters, which hung rather loosely about his poor old legs,--rubbing his hands one over the other as he went.

And yet he walked quickly; not tottering as he walked, but with an uncertain, doubtful step.

The verger, as Mr Harding passed, put his hand to his head, and Crosbie also raised his hat.