Mrs. Holymead took a sip of water, shuddered, took another sip, then heaved a sigh, and opened to the full extent her large dark eyes on the man bending over her, who felt amply repaid by such a glance.

The custode dipped an iron ladle into the miraculous water, and we each of us drank a sip; and, what is very, remarkable, to me it seemed hard water and almost brackish, while many persons think it the sweetest in Rome.

From flower to flower The butterfly sips, O passionate limbs And importunate lips!

Seeing this, a husky German private, who looked as though in private life he might be a piano mover, brought out of his blanket roll a bottle of white wine and, holding the scared, exhausted lad against his chest, ministered to him with all gentleness, and gave him sips of the wine.

Wise old Rodriguez advises readers of spiritual books to observe a hen drinking and to imitate her slow and deliberate sipping, by reading in small quantities, with pauses.

Once or twice he drank in my company a cocktail, and he munched each sip as if it were mutton.

In richness and variety it is quite equal to any of its predecessors; and we promise our readers an occasional sip of its original sweets.

She told them nothing that night of having seen Fitzgerald; and, refusing all refreshment save a sip of wine, she sank on the bed utterly exhausted.

DOLALLOLLA (Queen), wife of King Arthur, very fond of stiff punch, but scorning "vulgar sips of brandy, gin, and rum."

'I never asked him to paint you,' said Lord Findon, hastily, swallowing a sip of tea under the regulation time, and frowning at the misdeed.

A poet sang: "At Kiladerry this day the ravens shall taste sips of blood: A victory shall be gained over the magic host of the Gentiles and over Flann.

And when I'm alone with the glass at my lips, I am ready to swear, as I pause 'twixt the sips, That as long as the world does not hamper my will, I think I can manage to live in it still.

They administered the stimulant cautiously, a sip at a time.

The fact that they were stranded in a real desert town, with Indians and cowboys in the streets, and vistas such as she had dreamed of shimmering in the afternoon sun, awakened an erstwhile slumbering desire for a draught of the real Romance of the West, heretofore only enjoyed in unsatisfying sips as she read of the West and its wonder trails.

Before he drained the last sip of the second pouring he would hold the glass up to the fire, so that the bronze coruscations at the heart of the wine glowed like fireflies in a gold dusk.