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Updated: May 12, 2025
When he next made his bow to his hostess, he was greeted by a pleasant sparkle of refreshments. Mrs. Chump herself primed him with Sherry, thinking in the cunning of her heart that it might haply help the inspiration derived from his devotional exercise. After this, pen and paper were again produced. "Well, now, Mr. Braintop, and what have ye thought of?" said Mrs. Chump, encouragingly.
"Mia figlia," seized Wilfrid's ear. Mr. Pericles bellowed, "Allegro." Two minutes after Braintop felt a touch on his shoulder; and Wilfrid, speaking in a tone of friend to friend, begged him to go to town by the last train and remove Miss Belloni to an hotel, which he named. "Certainly," said Braintop; "but if I meet her father...?" Wilfrid summoned champagne for him; whereupon Mrs.
Emilia, though she thought it natural that Braintop should carry a pocket-mirror if he pleased, laughed from sympathy; until Braintop, reduced to the verge of forbearance, stood up and remarked that, to perform the mission entrusted to him, he must depart immediately. Mr. Pole was loth to let him go, but finally commending him to a good supper, he sighed, and declared himself a new man.
"He can bring out notes that are more like honey if you can fancy a thread of honey drawn through your heart as if it would never end! He is Italian." Braintop modestly surveyed her hair and brows and cheeks, and taking the print of her eyes on his brain to dream over, smelt at a relationship with the wry black wig, which cast a halo about it.
I had to see him on urgent business; that is why I took this liberty," he said, and retreated. Braintop was still there, quietly posted, performing upon his head with a pocket hair-brush. Wilfrid put Braintop's back to the light, and said, "Is my shirt soiled?" After a short inspection, Braintop pronounced that it was, "just a little."
It will not be long, and you will see her." The hasty scrawl concluded with numerous little caressing exclamations in Italian diminutives. This done, Emilia thought: "But he will look up and see me!" She resolved not to send it till they were about to quit the theatre. Consequently, Braintop, on his arrival, was told to sit down. "You don't look cheerful in the pit," said Mr. Pole.
Braintop stood bowing like the most faithful confirmation of an opinion ever seen. He looked the victim of fatigue, in the bargain. A light broke on Mrs. Chump. "I'll never forgive myself, ye poor gentle heart, to throw pens and pen- wipers at ye, that did your best, poor boy!
"He can bring out notes that are more like honey if you can fancy a thread of honey drawn through your heart as if it would never end! He is Italian." Braintop modestly surveyed her hair and brows and cheeks, and taking the print of her eyes on his brain to dream over, smelt at a relationship with the wry black wig, which cast a halo about it.
Chump was struck with a notion that Braintop's sinfulness in working on a Sunday, or else the shortness of the prayer he had put up to gain absolution, was the cause of his lack of ready wit. Hearing that he had gloves, she told him to go to church, listen devoutly, and return to luncheon. Braintop departed, with a sensation of relief in the anticipation of a sermon, quite new to him.
I shall always be thankful to you." Considering what Braintop was ready to do that he might be remembered for a day and no more, the request was so very moderate as to be painful to him. "You will leave him when you have given it into his hand. You are not to answer any questions," said Emilia. With a reassuring glance at the musician's wig, Braintop bent his head.
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