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'Rather a jolly room! That's what one says if the inn parlor's comfortable. This isn't a room. It's it's " "Shall we call it a temple?" he suggested, smiling. "I believe it's heaven the private particular Tristram heaven. They're all here!" She waved toward the pictures. "Here in a heaven of their own." "And we're allowed to visit it before we die?" "Yes. At least I am. You let me visit it.
When they were a block away Alan spotted the sign, blinking on and off in watery red letters: ATLAS GAMES PARLOR. A smaller sign proclaimed the parlor's Class C status, which allowed any mediocre player to make use of its facilities. As they drew near Alan felt a tingle of excitement. This was what he had come to the Earther city for in the first place to find Steve.
"No, I shouldn't think it did! Look at that great coffee stain you got on it this mornin'! Havin' a couple of perfect strangers come in to dinner makes more work than a man knows anything about. Children, you take off the knives, an' pile 'em up on the other table. Be real careful." "I wonder if the parlor's so I can ask them in there?" Mr. Tuxbury remarked, edging toward the door. "I s'pose so.
The junk and the lance and the machete and the rest had a fascination for Jimmie, as they would have had for most boys, but for him the parlor's strongest temptation lay in the fact that the children were forbidden to play there. Zoeth and the Captain, having been brought up in New England families of the old-fashioned kind, revered their parlor as a place too precious for use.
"Laws, yes, you can if you like. 'Twon't take you long there ain't much of it. I keep at my man to build a new kitchen, but he ain't one of your hustlers. The parlor's in there and there's two rooms upstairs. Just prowl about yourselves. I've got to see to the baby. The east room was the one you were born in.
"Bring the piano in," advised Ralph. "That's just exactly the place for it, and it ought to be in here on such an occasion." "Goodness! To be sure, but there's the expense of moving," exclaimed Bea with a longing sigh. "And it would have to go back, of course." "Why? Leave it here, a parlor's the place for a piano." "Yes, but that would never do," said Bea with decision.
Promptly, the next afternoon, Maria was excited by Martin's second visitor. But she did not lose her head this time, for she seated Brissenden in her parlor's grandeur of respectability. "Hope you don't mind my coming?" Brissenden began. "No, no, not at all," Martin answered, shaking hands and waving him to the solitary chair, himself taking to the bed. "But how did you know where I lived?"
There'd be plenty room fer us all, an' a nice place fer Lizzie to get married when the time comes. The parlor's real big, and you would send her some roses, couldn't you?" "All right, grandmother. You shall have it," said Elizabeth with a relieved sigh, and in a few minutes she went home. Some day pretty soon she must think what to do, but there was no immediate hurry.
His lordship's chaise was of an old-fashioned pattern, and the springs far from what might have been desired or expected in a nobleman's conveyance. They alighted at the "Bells." His lordship bespoke supper, invited Mr. Caryll to join them, and, what time the meal was preparing, went into a noisy doze in the parlor's best chair. Mistress Winthrop sauntered out into the garden.
Before the next door a fatuously smiling pink-and-white bust simpered out of the Beauty Parlor's display-case, a bust elaborately coiffured with pounds of yellow hair in which glittered rhinestone buckles. Hair of every sort and shade and length was clustered about her, as if she were the presiding genius of some barbarian scalping-cult.