"Drab" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... in the next. But to go back to whar I started from, it all makes in the end for that pretty little chap over yonder in the dining-room. Rather puny for his years now, but as sound as a nut, and he'll grow, he'll grow. When his mother—poor, worthless drab—gave birth to him and died, I told her it was the best day's work she'd ...
— The Deliverance; A Romance of the Virginia Tobacco Fields • Ellen Glasgow
... of a tree which grows in the West-Indies called Morus tinctoria. It affords a durable but not very brilliant yellow dye, and is also used in producing some greens and drab colors. ...
— The American Woman's Home • Catherine E. Beecher and Harriet Beecher Stowe
... tones. "She" was still wayward and unkind, and "He" was setting out on the morrow in search of treasure to lay at a maiden's feet. The young fellow's visions of the Indies were no longer rosy, but drab as November skies. He was pledged to set his face westward ho! but the zest was gone out of the enterprise. He leaned over a gate, and watched the gulls fishing in ...
— Sea-Dogs All! - A Tale of Forest and Sea • Tom Bevan
... though typical of the country which he traversed, was distinctive, or it might have been a certain natural grace that made it seem so. He wore a light-gray, soft shirt made of French flannel, a dark-blue silk scarf, leather chaps over olive-drab khaki trousers, black, hand-sewed riding boots which displayed their polish despite a coating of fine dust, silver spurs, and, strapped to his right thigh, was a worn leather holster, natural color, from which protruded the black butt of ...
— The Coyote - A Western Story • James Roberts
... customers who would go on their way and be seen no more. Ah! even Mrs. Glegg's day seems far back in the past now, separated from us by changes that widen the years. War and the rumor of war had then died out from the minds of men, and if they were ever thought of by the farmers in drab greatcoats, who shook the grain out of their sample-bags and buzzed over it in the full market-place, it was as a state of things that belonged to a past golden age when prices were high. Surely the time was gone forever ...
— The Mill on the Floss • George Eliot
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