I entered it groping
, for the change from light to blackness made spots of colour swim before me.
On such an afternoon some score of members of the High Court of Chancery bar ought to be--as here they are--mistily engaged in one of the ten thousand stages of an endless cause, tripping one another up on slippery precedents, groping
knee-deep in technicalities, running their goat-hair and horsehair warded heads against walls of words and making a pretence of equity with serious faces, as players might.
Off we started again in the direction from which the faint murmur seemed to come, groping
our way as before along the rocky walls.
But the idea of this dried-up pedant, this elaborator of small explanations about as important as the surplus stock of false antiquities kept in a vendor's back chamber, having first got this adorable young creature to marry him, and then passing his honeymoon away from her, groping
after his mouldy futilities (Will was given to hyperbole)-- this sudden picture stirred him with a sort of comic disgust: he was divided between the impulse to laugh aloud and the equally unseasonable impulse to burst into scornful invective.
A few months ago I was at the old home, and I read that book again, after not looking at it for more than thirty years; and I read it with amazement at its prevailing artistic vulgarity, its prevailing aesthetic error shot here and there with gleams of light, and of the truth that Reade himself was always dimly groping
he answered politely, and I knew his hand was groping
in the darkness, so I put out mine and he held on tightly to one finger.
As I was groping
around the walls for the hole that should lead into the cave where Dian was imprisoned, I heard a man's voice quite close to me.
his way toward the far end of the chamber, he sought the candle which Tarzan had left stuck in its own wax upon the protruding end of an ingot.
In his belt her groping
fingers came upon the hilt of a long hunting-knife, and with this she cut a hole in the back wall of the tent.
To his groping
hands they felt not unlike double-headed bootjacks.
Saylor promptly drew his pistol, and groping
his way up the stairs entered the chamber, dimly lighted from the street.
That was the sort of reward Rose liked, the thanks that cheered her; and whenever she grew very tired, one look at the green shade, the curly head so restless on the pillow, and the poor groping
hands, touched her tender heart and put new spirit into the weary voice.