(adv.) In what manner or way; by what means or process.
(adv.) To what degree or extent, number or amount; in what proportion; by what measure or quality.
(adv.) For what reason; from what cause.
(adv.) In what state, condition, or plight.
(adv.) By what name, designation, or title.
(adv.) At what price; how dear.
Edited by Horace
Synonyms and Synonymous
ad. . In what manner, in what way, by what mode, by what means.. To what extent, to what degree.. For what cause, for what reason.. In what state, in what condition, in what plight.
Inputed by Cecile
adv. in what manner: to what extent: for what reason: by what means: from what cause: in what condition: (N.T.) sometimes=that.—The how and the why the manner and the cause.
n. (prov.) a low hill.
Checked by Conan
- As a walking companion, Emma had very early foreseen how useful she might find her. Jane Austen. Emma.
- How we shall conciliate this little creature, said Mrs. Bretton to me, I don't know: she tastes nothing, and by her looks, she has not slept. Charlotte Bronte. Villette.
- But how about the foresight and the moral retrogression? Arthur Conan Doyle. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
- May I ask how old he is, ma'am? Thomas Hardy. The Return of the Native.
- What a fine town but how the _buena gente_, the good people of that town, have suffered in this war. Hemingway, Ernest. For Whom The Bell Tolls.
- He knew how to blow any sort of bridge that you could name and he had blown them of all sizes and constructions. Hemingway, Ernest. For Whom The Bell Tolls.
- How she had to work and thrum at these duets and sonatas in the Street, before they appeared in public in the Square! William Makepeace Thackeray. Vanity Fair.
- How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more reasonable, her expressions more moderate! Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice.
- But pray, Colonel, how came you to conjure out that I should be in town today? Jane Austen. Sense and Sensibility.
- Be cautious then, young ladies; be wary how you engage. William Makepeace Thackeray. Vanity Fair.
- And how were they? Charlotte Bronte. Jane Eyre.
- How can you wait in this dress in the middle of the streets? Harriette Wilson. The Memoirs of Harriette Wilson.
- He knows how vast the field is, and how many paths constantly beckon him. Rupert S. Holland. Historic Inventions.
- Your book-case, Marian--your dear-little-shabby-old-satin-wood book-case--how glad I am you brought it with you from Limmeridge! Wilkie Collins. The Woman in White.
- But how has she lived through all these years? Wilkie Collins. The Woman in White.
- He looked at her--oh, how fondly--as she came running towards him, her hands before her, ready to give them to him. William Makepeace Thackeray. Vanity Fair.
- So, he sat down at the foot of his little iron bedstead, and began to wonder how much a year the warder made out of the dirty room. Charles Dickens. The Pickwick Papers.
- This victory gained, Rokesmith made haste to profit by it, for he saw how woefully time had been lost. Charles Dickens. Our Mutual Friend.
- Some time ago, before her father's death, when I thought it right to mention to her--but I'll tell you, if you will bear with me, how it was. Charles Dickens. David Copperfield.
- There she satand who would have guessed how many tears she had been lately shedding? Jane Austen. Emma.
- And you, last night, thinking about how you and your grandfather were so terrific and your father was a coward. Hemingway, Ernest. For Whom The Bell Tolls.
- That he may let me know how you behave, answered Frederick Lamb. Harriette Wilson. The Memoirs of Harriette Wilson.
- How long could I bear it? Charles Dickens. David Copperfield.
- But how if another claw in the shape of me is straining to thwart it? George Eliot. Middlemarch.
- How could my hair have been locked in the drawer? Arthur Conan Doyle. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
- There were lines upon his forehead, but Time seemed to have touched him gently, remembering how kind he was to others. Louisa May Alcott. Little Women.
- And how are you, my dear boy? Charles Dickens. Bleak House.
- I am quite grieved for him, and very much frightened, and so is Sir Thomas; and how glad I should be if you were here to comfort me. Jane Austen. Mansfield Park.
- How about the irreclaimable ones, though? Edith Wharton. The House of Mirth.
- I don't know how it is, said he, but I had hoped for so much from his return. Arthur Conan Doyle. The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes.
Checked by Conan