United States or Isle of Man ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
It was ten o'clock when the three returned from Tivoli and the Colosseum Mary Gowd silent and shabbier than ever from the dust of the road; Blue Cape smiling; Tweetie frankly pettish. Pa and Ma Gregg were listening to the after-dinner concert in the foyer.
So it was arranged. Mary Gowd rather outdid herself as a guide that morning. She had a hundred little intimate tales at her tongue's end. She seemed fairly to people those old ruins again with the men and women of a thousand years ago. Even Tweetie little frivolous, indifferent Tweetie was impressed and interested.
Tweetie had settled back inscrutably after one comprehensive, disdainful look at Mary Gowd's suit, hat, gloves and shoes. Now she sat up, her bewitching face glowing with interest. "Tell me," she said, "what do they call those officers with the long pale-blue capes and the silver helmets and the swords? And the ones in dark-blue uniform with the maroon stripe at the side of the trousers?
"Now, Mother," interrupted Henry Gregg, "the lady can't be interested in your club." "Oh, but I am!" exclaimed Mary Gowd very vivaciously. "Enormously!" Henry Gregg eyed her through his cigar smoke with suddenly narrowed lids. "M-m-m! Well, let's get to the point anyway. I know Tweetie here is dying to see St. Peter's, and all that."
I can't stay long just ran away from business to bring 'em over; but I'd like Tweetie to stay in Italy until she learns the lingo. Sings, too Tweetie does; and she and Ma think they'll have her voice cultivated over here. They'll stay here quite a while, I guess." "Then you will not be here with them?" asked Mary Gowd. "Me? No." They sat silent for a moment.
So it was that Mary Gowd began the process of pouring the bloody, religious, wanton, pious, thrilling, dreadful history of Rome into the pretty and unheeding ear of Tweetie Gregg. On the fourth morning after that introductory meeting Mary Gowd arrived at the hotel at ten, as usual, to take charge of her party for the day.
He had envied us our happiness. Into his degenerate mind had stolen the darkling and criminal thought that he Audacious Scoundrel might impose upon me by pretending he was not merely "a robin" but "The Robin" Tweetie himself and that he might supplant him in my affections. But he had been confounded and cast into outer darkness and again we were One. I will not attempt to deceive.
He strolled back to the waiting group. From her seat Mary Gowd heard Mrs. Gregg's surprised exclamation, saw Tweetie's pout, understood Caldini's shrug and sneer. There followed a little burst of conversation. Then, with a little frown which melted into a smile for Blue Cape, Tweetie went to her room for motor coat and trifles that the long day's outing demanded. Mrs.
I don't believe you are Tweetie at all. You are an Impostor!" Believable or not, just at that moment when I stood there under the bough arguing, reproaching and beguiling by turns and puzzled beyond measure out of the Nowhere darted a little scarlet flame of frenzy Tweetie himself with his feathers ruffled and on fire with fury.
Then he glanced over at the group again, with Blue Cape looking down so eagerly into Tweetie's exquisite face and Tweetie looking up so raptly into Blue Cape's melting eyes and Ma Gregg standing so placidly by. He turned again to Mary Gowd's earnest face. "Well, maybe you're right. They do seem to use chaperons in Europe duennas, or whatever you call 'em. Seems a nice kind of chap, though."
Word Of The Day