They groan and hoot when we drive through the village.

But they never attempt to do us any harm; they are too much afraid of us." When Etta rose and came toward him her face was colorless.
"Let me see this room," she said.
He opened the door and followed her into the apartment, which has already been described.

Here he told further somewhat bald details of the work he had attempted to do.

It is to be feared that he made neither an interesting nor a romantic story of it.

There were too many details--too much statistic, and no thrilling realism whatever.