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Updated: May 6, 2025
"I always liked old George," said Winifred. "He's so droll." "I never did," said Soames. "Where's your seat? I shall go to mine. Fleur may be back there." Having seen Winifred to her seat, he regained his own, conscious of small, white, distant figures running, the click of the bat, the cheers and counter-cheers. No Fleur, and no Annette! You could expect nothing of women nowadays!
At first her eye rested on it as carelessly as it did on the stray stamp Frank had dropped; then, as if one thing suggested the other, she took it into her head that the paper was Frank's composition, or, better still, a note to Annette, for the two corresponded when absence or weather prevented the daily meeting at school. "Wouldn't it be fun to keep it till he gives back Jack's stamps?
"And, Mr. Tinman, I will faithfully promise that so long as you are good to my dear father, I will not be untrue to my engagement, only do not wish me to name any day. We shall be such very good dear friends if you consent to this. Will you?" Pausing for a space, the enamoured man unrolled his voice in lamentation: "Oh! Annette, how long will you keep me?"
There was an enamelled belt pin for finery-loving Annette, a gay set of paper dolls for little Bébé, a new story book for book-loving Madge, a silver stamp-box for Elsie, and for Amelia a pretty blue silk workbag fitted with needles, thimble, and scissors.
'Have you been in my aunt's dressing-room, since you left me? 'No, ma'amselle, I called at the door as I passed, but it was fastened; so I thought my lady was gone to bed. 'Who, then, was with your lady just now? said Emily, forgetting, in surprise, her usual prudence. 'Nobody, I believe, ma'am, replied Annette, 'nobody has been with her, I believe, since I left you.
After all, very little would be left for the prairie dog. "Does the chief think that Captain Stephens was in danger of capture by those Indians?" Annette ventured to ask. This is the question that had been upon her lips since the arrival of the chief, but she could not summon courage enough to ask it sooner.
'Oh, oui, c'est beau, he says, with an expressive shrug; 'mais je m'ennuie; ce n'est pas chic. Again, he complains dreadfully of the absence of cafes and theatres, and moans continually for his lost Annette, of whom he says he dreams three times a week.
A second telegram, received at dinner-time, had confirmed the good news of Annette, and, instead of going in, Soames passed down through the garden in the moonlight to his houseboat. He could sleep there quite well. Bitterly tired, he lay down on the sofa in his fur coat and fell asleep. He woke soon after dawn and went on deck.
Annette belonged to that large section of the public which likes or dislikes a picture according to whether its subject happens to please or displease them. Probably there was not one of the million or so child-and-cat eyesores at present in existence which she would not have liked. Besides, he had been very nice about her music. 'I think it's splendid, she announced.
Victorine approached the group, and announced in her emphatic way that Annette was ill, very ill, and had gone out alone into the crowd, when the doctor had bidden her not leave her bed.
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