The moment he produced the glittering earbobs, the whimpering and whining
of the sempiternal beldame was at an end.
Sometimes she would cry bitterly for hours, with Toto sitting at her feet and looking into her face, whining
dismally to show how sorry he was for his little mistress.
He looked at the fire of logs, with its one flame pirouetting on the top in a dying dance after the breakfast-cooking and boiling, and it seemed to jig to his inward tune; also at the two chimney crooks dangling down from the cotterel or cross-bar, plumed with soot which quivered to the same melody; also at the half-empty kettle whining
It was neither whining
nor reproachful, but drily resolute.
That idea, indeed, makes me forget that poor fellow Broussel altogether; and I now fail to recognize in you the whining
complaints of that old Frondeur.
The Torzhok peddler woman, in a whining
voice, went on offering her wares, especially a pair of goatskin slippers.
Calots were growling out their savage gutturals, whining
to be at the throats of the oncoming foemen.
It was but a short time after that that Tudor tried the same trick on him, the bullets pattering about him like spiteful rain, thudding into the palm trunks, or glancing off in whining
From weeping he went to whining
, and from whining
to wailing, until at last he achieved a scream.
Because the thing did not fight back, because it was abject and whining
, because it was helpless under him, he abandoned the attack, disengaging himself from the top of the tangle into which he had slid in the lee scuppers.
Practically all his waking time off duty, Dag Daughtry spent with the imprisoned Michael, who, at command, had quickly learned to refrain from whining
Pinocchio looked at the glass, made a wry face, and asked in a whining
voice: "Is it sweet or bitter?
I made a dead- ahead scramble for the doors, whining
like a dog in the press despatches that lets the family know that little Alice is bogged while gathering lilies in the brook.
When the sled started, he floundered in the soft snow alongside the beaten trail, attacking Sol-leks with his teeth, rushing against him and trying to thrust him off into the soft snow on the other side, striving to leap inside his traces and get between him and the sled, and all the while whining
and yelping and crying with grief and pain.
The aerial battle was over, and Thomas Mugridge, whining
and gibbering, his mouth flecked with bloody foam, was brought down to deck.