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I own that his figure was not strictly symmetrical, that he had a roll in his gait, suggestive of heavy seas, that he would not have looked well in your boudoir; but he never seemed out of place on my quarter-deck, and every man on board loved him as a brother. But how touching it was to see him waddle up and down the deck after Mr.
As she was in the act of brushing her hair before the mirror, Lady Clifford's maid, Aline, entered after a perfunctory knock and informed her briefly that her ladyship wished to speak with her in the boudoir.
As he crossed the patio and stepped upon the corridor he fancied he already detected in the internal arrangements the subtle influence of Mrs. Peyton's taste and the indefinable domination of the mistress. For an instant he thought of anticipating the servant and seeking her in the boudoir, but some instinct withheld him, and he turned into the study which he had used as an office.
So straight is it that Dorothea could keep her brothers in view from the gates until they dismounted before their office door, losing sight of them for a minute or two only among the elms by the bridge. Her boudoir window commanded the same prospect; and every day as the London coach topped the hill, her maid Polly would run with news of it.
With "Euty" a tenor, warbling those pernicious boudoir chansons of moonlight and longing of sighing love and anguished passion, they suspected that he would have been harder to manage.
Most of them were living down something, and it was Lady Kimbuck's habit, when thwarted in her lightest whim, to retire to her boudoir and announce that she was not to be disturbed as she was at last making a start on her book. Abject surrender followed on the instant. At this point in the discussion she folded up her crochet-work, and rose.
Catharine was alone in her boudoir, when the small door, through which the king was accustomed to resort to her, was softly opened. "Oh, the king is coming!" said she, walking to the door to greet her husband. "Yes, the king is coming, for the fool is already here," said John Heywood, who entered through the private door. "Are we alone, queen? Does nobody overhear us?"
Suddenly this curtain was noiselessly raised, and the young Marquise appeared, her brow surmounted by her coronet. She threw a rapid glance over the boudoir, and after a moment's pause, let the curtain fall gently, and advanced directly toward Camors, who stood dazzled and immovable.
He seated himself in a padded boudoir chair, unfolded a snowy serviette and attacked his breakfast with the enthusiasm of a perfectly healthy animal. "Is this your first visit here, sir?" "Absolutely. Dallas is as foreign to me as Lhasa. It is the Baghdad of my dreams and its streets are strange. Perhaps they are full of adventure for me. I hope so.
Then she ran away to escape another shaking, and in the first boudoir she found the little blue dog curled up on a blue cushion in a corner. Trot patted his head gently, and this surprised the dog, who was accustomed to cuffs and kicks. So he licked Trot's hand and wagged his funny little tail and then straightened up and crowed like a rooster.
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