We were the usual crowd of mixed humanity--tinkers, tailors, soldiers, sailors, with our cousins, and our sisters, and our wives.

So many of our eyes were wet with tears.

Miss Butcher could hardly repress her sobs.

Young Mr.Tinker, his face hidden behind his programme, pretended to be blowing his nose.

Mrs.Apothecary's large bosom heaved with heartfelt sighs.