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The premarital relations of all but the most cultured and experienced, are marked by a mawkish sweetness which is all the more noticeable in contrast with the dull routine of saving and slaving which follows. She begins by being photographed sitting in her hero's lap, and ends by sitting on the less comfortable chair to darn his socks and to tend his babies.
In the window, where the ferns and palms were, three persons sat, two young women and a small boy in socks. One of the three rose and came to meet her. The identity of the face with the one she had seen through the opera glass so recently, added to her confusion. "Can I show you something?" Miss Virginia gazed at the speaker despairingly. "I have forgotten what I came for," she stammered.
But, any day in the year, a picture on the wall might perhaps be as comforting as a blanket on the bed; and, at any rate, would be good for twelve months, while the blanket would help but six. I have seen an Irish mother, in a mud hovel, turn red with delight at a rattle for her baby, when I am quite sure she would have been indifferently grateful for a pair of socks.
Beside her on a little table were the implements of household work, a pile of napkins, and another of socks waiting to be mended, also a lamp like that which shone on the white page of the book in which the pastor was absorbed. Her fresh young face, with its delicate outline, expressed an infinite purity which harmonized with the candor of the white brow and the clear blue eyes.
Nothing seemed to tire his patience, neither the hollow dreams of the marquis, who spoke of the Bourbons as if 1815 were a recent date, nor the effusions of citizen Roudier, who grew quite pathetic when he recounted how many pairs of socks he had supplied to the citizen king, Louis Philippe. On the contrary, he seemed quite at his ease in this Tower of Babel.
"He must have been a fine baby," said Lyndall, looking at the white dimity curtain that hung above the window. Em was puzzled. "There are some men," said Lyndall, "whom you never can believe were babies at all; and others you never see without thinking how very nice they must have looked when they wore socks and pink sashes."
I give you fifteen minutes to be on your way to the station. Miss the next train and sink to the level of common men!" Shirts, socks straps, locks; adieux, tips horses, whips!
"Four thousand pair of socks," he murmured, pulling down his spectacles and consulting the open letter for the tenth time; "four thousand pair of socks, with the hitch, same as last bale, but a very little coarser in material." "Four thousand pair! and who's to make them, I wonder. If poor Mrs. Dorothy Grumbit were here ah! well, she's gone, so it can't be helped.
“When all are undressed, one is somehow not ashamed, but when one’s the only one undressed and everybody is looking, it’s degrading,” he kept repeating to himself, again and again. “It’s like a dream, I’ve sometimes dreamed of being in such degrading positions.” It was a misery to him to take off his socks. They were very dirty, and so were his underclothes, and now every one could see it.
"What yuh going to tell 'em?" Mert demanded suspiciously. Bud permitted a surprised glance to slant back at Mert. "Why, whatever you fellows fake up for me to tell," he said naively. "I know the truth ain't popular on this trip, so get together and dope out something. And hand me over my suit case, will yuh? I want some dry socks to put on when I get there."
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