I felt a liking for that simple woman, and a respect for Brough too.

He couldn't be a bad man, whose wife loved him so.
Dinner was soon announced, and I had the honour of leading in Miss B., who looked back rather angrily, I thought, at Captain Fizgig, because that gentleman had offered his arm to Mrs.Brough.

He sat on the right of Mrs.Brough, and Miss flounced down on the seat next to him, leaving me and Mr.Tidd to take our places at the opposite side of the table.
At dinner there was turbot and soup first, and boiled turkey afterwards of course.

How is it that at all the great dinners they have this perpetual boiled turkey?
It was real turtle-soup: the first time I had ever tasted it; and I remarked how Mrs.B., who insisted on helping it, gave all the green lumps of fat to her husband, and put several slices of the breast of the bird under the body, until it came to his turn to be helped.
"I'm a plain man," says John, "and eat a plain dinner.

I hate your kickshaws, though I keep a French cook for those who are not of my way of thinking.