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Geoffrey is rushing hither and thither, without his hat, and without his temper, in a vain endeavor to secure the rebel and reduce him to order. He is growing warm, and his breath is coming more quickly than is exactly desirable; but, being possessed with the desire to conquer or die, he still holds on. He races madly over the ground, crying "Shoo!" every now and then (whatever that may mean) in a desperate tone, as though impressed with the belief that this simple and apparently harmless expletive must cow the foe. "Am I harsh?" says Mona, wistfully. "Ah! Walzes and polkas, you mean?" she says, in a puzzled tone..
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Conrad
Long lived Mīka´pi. Of all the great chiefs who have lived and died he was the greatest. He did many other great things. It must be true, as the old men have said, that he was helped by the ghosts, for no one can do such things without help from those fearful and terrible persons. "Ah, how you flatter!" says Mona. Nevertheless, being a woman, and the flattery being directed to herself, she takes it kindly. Geoffrey is the taller man of the two, but Paul the more lithe and sinewy. For a moment they sway to and fro; then Geoffrey, getting his fingers upon his cousin's throat, forces him backward. "Open that door, Mrs. Geoffrey," says the doctor pointing to his right hand. "I saw you coming, and have prepared him for the interview. I shall be just here, or in the next room, if you should want me. But I can do little for him more than I have done.".
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