air-beads

Updated: May 3, 2025

"Tell your story, and drink your Roederer, my dear Q. M." "Story! I want to get at the story. I travelled with a man and his wife from Folkestone to Paris. On the boat he was the most attentive of husbands; at the terminus he had disappeared. Poor woman in tears; fell into my arms, sir, by Jove!" "No story!" cried Bertram, winking at the floating air-beads in his glass.

W. Blanchard Jerrold - The Cockaynes in Paris : Or 'Gone abroad'