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Denslow, as he finished the last crumb and drop of his portion of the food, "for the accession to your company at this needful time, of a tower of strength in the person of Lieutenant Jacob Alspaugh."
It did not take me long to find out that, in the treatment of the interior of the new house, Alice had fallen a victim to the influence of the Denslow-Baylor-Maria schools. At any rate, I found that our new house was to be a conspicuous intermingling and interblending of the Denslow, Baylor, and Maria styles of architecture.
This other, now He sat low in his chair, his long legs stretched out in his favorite position, and dreamed. He would not play the fool like Doyle. He would conciliate the family. In the end he would be put up at the clubs; he might even play polo. His thoughts wandered to Pink Denslow at the polo grounds, and he grinned. "Young fool!" he reflected.
This was two years ago, when, as perhaps you remember, my sun-spot theory was widely discussed by the newspaper press. I then told Mr. Denslow that the recurrence of the sun spots would surely induce a drought upon this planet, thereby causing a shortage in the crops; whereupon Mr. Alice has long recognized Mr.
"Denslow, I have told you a thousand times never to concede position." "Yes, but this is a duke, man, a prince!" "This from you? By Jove, De Vere, I wish you and I could live a hundred years, to see a republican aristocrat. We are still mere provincials," added Dalton, with a sigh. Denslow perspired with mortification. "You use me badly, I tell you, Dalton, this Rosecouleur is a devil.
He was totally unlike the men she knew, those carefully repressed, conventional clean-cut boys, like Pink Denslow. He was raw, vigorous and possibly brutal. She did not quite like him, but she found herself thinking about him a great deal. The old life was reaching out its friendly, idle hands toward her.
"If ye want to come right down to straight business," said the refractory Denslow, "there ain't any man got authority over us except Mr. Look there, as foreman of the Smyrna Ancients and Honer'bles." Mr. Denslow, mistaking the Cap'n's speechlessness for conviction, proceeded: "We was hired to take a sail for our health, dig dirt, and keep our mouths shut.
Every one murmured, "The likeness is perfect." "And the demon behind the queen," said Denslow, insipidly, "resembles your Highness's valet." There was another exclamation. No sooner was it observed, than the likeness to Rêve de Noir seemed to be even more perfect. The Duke made a sign. Rêve de Noir placed himself near the canvas. His profile was the counterpart of that in the painting.
"Name's Denslow," said Pink. "Liked what you said. Have you time to run over to my club with me and have a high-ball and a talk?" "I've got all the rest of the night." "Right-o!" said Pink, who had brought back a phrase or two from the British. It was not until they were in the car that Pink said: "I think you're a friend of Miss Cardew's, aren't you?"
Vis-a-vis with her, and consequently with myself, was Adonaïs, a celebrated author, and person of the beau monde. On his left, Dalton, always mysteriously elegant and dangerously witty. Denslow and Jeffrey Lethal, the critic, completed our circle. The conversation was easy, animated, personal.
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