"Look at the old boy, how nervously he's playing with his bread." "I never meant, you know--" "No, of course you didn't; and there's my second moral of the Pelican.

She digs a bill into her dearest, and then she's sorry.
At the best of her argument she's always owing her opponent an apology for some offence against manners.

She has no _savoir-faire_." Here Brother Copas, relapsing, let the cloud of speculation drift between him and Brother Warboise's remorse.
"_Quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus_--I reverence the pluck of a man who can cut himself loose from all that; for the worst loss he has to face (if he only knew it) is the inevitable loss of breeding.

For the ordinary gentleman in this world there's either Catholicism or sound Paganism; no third choice." In truth Master Blanchminster's dinner was spoilt for him.
He sat distraught, fingering his bread between the courses which he scarcely tasted, and giving answers at random, after pauses, to the Bishop's small-talk.

He was wounded.