Bevan stopped for a moment to reflect, then wryly demurred, “I sound like a douchebag.”
Mrs. Wynne, Mr. Bevan, and I should not be out here waiting for work.
Bevan now crawled up and had a look, and then beckoned to the rest.
At the sound of the name Unaco cast a sharp glance at Bevan.
He gave the command of the Venus to Bevan, with Tom as his mate, and six hands.
Mr. Bevan had even written to request it, at 50 a year instead of 70.
From Mr Bevan, of Massachusetts,' he added, giving it to him.
Mr. Bevan was saying that you ought to have the best Italian masters.
Martin then read him a letter to Mr Bevan, which he had already prepared.
Mr Bevan cut in on his reflections as if he had heard them by some process of wireless telegraphy.