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Kensington had only seen her once and would not be expecting to see her here. If he saw her now, he wouldn't recognize her. Fifteen minutes later, she was sipping an extremely expensive martini in the dining room when she raised her eyes to see Dark Kensington enter, wearing a dark-red, form-fitting evening suit. He paused just inside the door and stood there, slowly surveying the room.

"We are on the point of arriving," went on Monsieur Vaucher. "I come to tell Madame how the ground lies in this city. It is, you see, a place vexed with various politics, an arena of trivialities. In other words, Madame, the best place in the world for one who is shall we say? detached." Truda laughed, sipping her warm tea. "Politics have never tempted me, my friend," she replied.

Through the open door we could see the waiter placing steaming cups of tea upon the table we had deserted, and re-entering the room, we seated ourselves in the big carved arm-chairs. Sipping the delicious beverage, we glanced toward the other tables, where groups of Chinamen were talking in a curious jargon and dexterously handling the thin ebony chop-sticks.

Hence I was glad enough to get within the tea-house's hospitable walls, and sat there quite content to go on sipping the fragrant infusion for long enough.

Well, one dreary, desolate afternoon in March, when the barbs of all the vanes in the city were looking pertinaciously eastward, and people were shivering over anthracite grates, Jack Withers "might have been seen," as James would say, seated in the little back parlor of the coffee room in School Street, sipping Mocha with his particular friend Bill Bliffins, who had an especial claim upon his kindness, from the fact that he had already extricated Bill from scrapes innumerable.

Larry became immediately his old gay self. The green dwarf regarded us whimsically, sipping from his great flagon of rock crystal. "Much do I desire to know of that world you came from," he said at last "through the rocks," he added, slyly. "And much do we desire to know of this world of yours, O Rador," I answered. Should I ask him of the Dweller; seek from him a clue to Throckmartin?

"With this skill I presume they have no trouble in securing enough to eat," suggested Paul, sipping his cocoa. "On the contrary, there are times when weather conditions, such as drouth, make it a very difficult matter for some tribes to get sufficient food.

In the morning she came down early, despite some dawdling over her toilet. She brought the morning paper into the dining-room and sat down with it, sipping her coffee. She leaned back and looked leisurely at the headings. There was nothing on the front page but a divorce, a revolution, and a new Trust. She took another sip of her coffee, and turned the page.

I began to drink my coffee, quite amazed at her easy freedom, and struck with her beauty, to which it would have been impossible to remain indifferent. She had seated herself on my bed, giving no other apology for that liberty than the most delightful smile. I was still sipping my coffee, when Lucie's parents came into my room.

After this I could sleep no more, and in thought I followed Gotz through the snow-storm. And in spirit I saw Waldtrud, the fair daughter of Grubner, the chief forester, bidding him welcome, and giving him hot spiced wine after his cold ride, and sipping the cup with her rosy lips.