Muttering

Examples

• At last Mr Flintwinch came shuffling down the staircase into the hall, muttering and calling 'Affery woman! Charles Dickens. Little Dorrit.
• Jo closes his eyes, muttering, I'm wery thankful. Charles Dickens. Bleak House.
• Again, I catch rare glimpses of my mother, moving her lips timidly between the two, with one of them muttering at each ear like low thunder. Charles Dickens. David Copperfield.
• The last I saw of him, his head was bent over his knee and he was working hard at his fetter, muttering impatient imprecations at it and at his leg. Charles Dickens. Great Expectations.
• Your master, said her husband, muttering an imprecation with slow emphasis, will break your neck if you meddle with wot don't concern you. Charles Dickens. Bleak House.
• The purport of the muttering was: 'that Rogue Riderhood, by George! Charles Dickens. Our Mutual Friend.
• This done, he went away, muttering, and uttered the cry of his trade next door, in a vindictive shriek. Charles Dickens. David Copperfield.
• Disaffection, however, was still heard muttering to himself. Charlotte Bronte. Shirley.
• But I thought that he had pleasant eyes, although he kept on muttering to himself in an angry manner and calling Mrs. Rachael names. Charles Dickens. Bleak House.
• Then he limped on again, toiling and muttering. Charles Dickens. Little Dorrit.
• Uncle, after not looking at it a little while, divined its object, and muttering 'Dinner? Charles Dickens. Little Dorrit.
• Muttering, after an ineffectual call to his lodger, that he will go downstairs and bring a lighted candle from the shop, the old man departs. Charles Dickens. Bleak House.
• As she withdrew her hands from it, she fell back a step or two, nervously muttering some excuse. Charles Dickens. Great Expectations.
• So away she went, muttering her message all the way to keep it in her mind, and, at the appointed time, came back. Charles Dickens. Little Dorrit.
• At last she stopped before the fire, and said, after muttering and looking at it some seconds,-- This is my birthday, Pip. Charles Dickens. Great Expectations.
• Whether his imagination is fibrous enough to catch the inwardness of the mutterings of our age is something experience alone can show. Walter Lippmann. A Preface to Politics.

Checker: Prudence