The idea of you takin' orders from a nigger an' fetchin' 'n' carryin' for him! No, sir, dog, you ain't goin' to do it any more.

You're comin' along of me, an' I reckon I won't have to urge you." Dag Daughtry stood up and turned carelessly along the beach.

Michael looked after him, but did not follow.

He was eager to, but had received no invitation.

At last Daughtry made a low kissing sound with his lips.
So low was it that he scarcely heard it himself and almost took it on faith, or on the testimony of his lips rather than of his ears, that he had made it.