For, to start with, I made sure you was goin' to be a frump.
"Shining Ferry" by Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch
She's lots of fun, and a body'd be a great goose that tried to suit all the old frumps in town.
"The Governess" by Julie M. Lippmann
I'll trust your instinct in such matters, Mort; you've never been one to run after frumps and minxes.
"The Tyranny of the Dark" by Hamlin Garland
After all, the Dean is an old frump, and papa does not care a bit about him.
"An Old Man's Love" by Anthony Trollope
I make no count of your foreign frumps and fiddlements.
"It Might Have Been" by Emily Sarah Holt
Wants some one to cheer her up, or she'll be dumped and frumped and grumped all in one.
"Girls of the Forest" by L. T. Meade
He always has some frump to pour tea and ask fool questions.
"The Place of Honeymoons" by Harold MacGrath
No one ever regained my favour by making a frump of herself.
"Hypolympia" by Edmund Gosse
The smarter you are, the more of a frump you will look!
"The Limit" by Ada Leverson
Or perhaps it's merely because I'm an old frump from a back-township ranch!
"The Prairie Child" by Arthur Stringer
There is no reason why we must be frumps.
"The Gorgeous Girl" by Nalbro Bartley
Now, by comparison with a bright, well-dressed wife, he sees what an "old frump" his mother is.
"Threads of Grey and Gold" by Myrtle Reed
I'm bound to look the veriest frump in comparison, so why worry any more?
"What a Man Wills" by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey
The looking-glass had bitter things to tell me, and crying makes me such a frump.
"A Man in the Open" by Roger Pocock
Each called the other a greedy frump.
"In My Nursery" by Laura E. Richards
I must say she looked a frump.
"The Amazing Inheritance" by Frances R. Sterrett
Not the room, this, of an old frump.
"Red Rowans" by Flora Annie Steel
He always had called them frumps, or cats, or freaks, or something like that.
"The City of Masks" by George Barr McCutcheon
The crew are a spiteful set of ugly frumps, and on my solemn word I won't row any more.
"Mr Punch Afloat"
Out yonder at Antigniano they are all old frumps, and the men never remain there.
"The Mysterious Mr. Miller" by William Le Queux