But he had noticed that it was clean--as clean as the pink-flushed face of Marie.

And the Frenchman himself, with all his hair, and his beard, and his rough-worn clothing, was as clean as the burlap towelling.

Being a stranger, suddenly plunged into a life entirely new to him, these things impressed David.
When they sat down to the table--Thoreau sitting for company, and Marie standing behind them--he was at a loss at first to know how to begin.
His plate was of tin and a foot in diameter, and on it was a three-pound mallard duck, dripping with juice and as brown as a ripe hazel-nut.

He made a business of arranging his sleeves and drinking a glass of water while he watched the famished Little Missioner.

With a chuckle of delight Father Roland plunged the tines of his fork hilt deep into the breast of the duck, seized a leg in his fingers, and dismembered the luscious anatomy of his plate with a deft twist and a sudden pull.