Pigeons and sparrows hopped about unconcernedly.

On the file of cabs, just perceptible through the foliage, the cabmen lolled in listless attitudes.

Sir Bartle Frere stolidly kept his back to me, not the least interested in this Gilbert a Becket story.

I always thought something was wrong with that man's character.
What on earth could I tell her to do?
The best course was to find the infernal Harry.

I asked her how she came to lose him.