looks and contemptuous shrugs of the sober townsfolk.
Diogenes alone as he finally turned once again in the doorway encountered many a timid glance levelled at him that were soft and kindly. These glances came from the women, from the young and from the old, for women are strange creatures of whims and of fancies, and there was something in the swaggering insolence of that young malapert that made them think of breezy days upon the sea-shore, of the song of the soaring lark, of hyacinths in bloom and the young larches on the edge of the wood.
And I imagine that their sluggish Dutch blood yielded to these influences and was greatly stirred by memories of youth.
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