1 That, I believe, is agreed on all hands.
2 She put her hands to her dress, as if she hardly knew.
3 She struck herself with both her hands upon her bosom.
4 She put her two hands on his mouth, with a face of terror, to stop him from saying more.
5 It was to throw a covering over her; as if his hands were not enough to hide her, even in the darkness.
6 The better, Mr. Harthouse gave him to understand as they shook hands, for the salubrious air of Coketown.
7 There was a chairman to regulate the proceedings, and this functionary now took the case into his own hands.
8 Her hands rested in one another, like the hands of a statue; and even her manner of speaking was not hurried.
9 It was not so far off, but that Stephen, following her hands with his eyes, could read what was printed on it in large letters.
10 She shuddered to approach the pit; but she crept towards it on her hands and knees, and called to him as loud as she could call.
11 So does the eye of Heaven itself become an evil eye, when incapable or sordid hands are interposed between it and the things it looks upon to bless.
12 Childers took one of his hands out of his pockets, stroked his face and chin, and looked, with a good deal of doubt and a little hope, at Mr. Gradgrind.
13 Stupidly dozing, or communing with her incapable self about nothing, she sat for a little while with her hands at her ears, and her head resting on them.
14 She came bounding down again in a great hurry, opened a battered and mangy old hair trunk, found it empty, and looked round with her hands clasped and her face full of terror.
15 Opening his arms wide he took her by both her hands, and would have sprung her up and down, after the riding-master manner of congratulating young ladies on their dismounting from a rapid act; but there was no rebound in Sissy, and she only stood before him crying.
16 The flutter of her manner, in the unwonted noise of the streets; the spare shawl, carried unfolded on her arm; the heavy umbrella, and little basket; the loose long-fingered gloves, to which her hands were unused; all bespoke an old woman from the country, in her plain holiday clothes, come into Coketown on an expedition of rare occurrence.
17 Without a candle in the room, Mrs. Sparsit sat at the window, with her hands before her, not thinking much of the sounds of evening; the whooping of boys, the barking of dogs, the rumbling of wheels, the steps and voices of passengers, the shrill street cries, the clogs upon the pavement when it was their hour for going by, the shutting-up of shop-shutters.
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