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He was dressed, with the exception of that one article of apparel, when the brothers came to his chamber, and then he came to the breakfast-parlour where the painful communication was to be made to Flora of her lover's faithlessness. Flora was already seated in that apartment.
Good-night. Edward retired, without trusting his voice with a reply. When Colonel Talbot entered the breakfast-parlour next morning, he learned from Waverley's servant that our hero had been abroad at an early hour, and was not yet returned. The morning was well advanced before he again appeared, He arrived out of breath, but with an air of joy that astonished Colonel Talbot.
After breakfast, Lucy and the girls were to spend the morning in the old school-room, so that there might be a general explanation as to the doings of the last six months. They were to dine at three, and after dinner there should be the discussion. "Will you come up to my room at four o'clock, my dear?" said Lady Fawn, patting Lucy's shoulder, in the breakfast-parlour.
The abbé, who was taking the air at his door, begged of them to do him the honour of a visit, and, having introduced them into his breakfast-parlour, he gazed at them in a singular fashion. In the middle of the sideboard, between the plates, was a soup-tureen decorated with yellow bouquets. Pécuchet praised it, at a loss for something to say. "It is old Rouen," returned the curé; "an heirloom.
Spenlow ate entirely off plate and china; and another hinted at champagne being constantly on draught, after the usual custom of table-beer. The old clerk with the wig, whose name was Mr. Tiffey, had been down on business several times in the course of his career, and had on each occasion penetrated to the breakfast-parlour.
Oldbuck, descending to his breakfast-parlour, found that his womankind were not upon duty, his toast not made, and the silver jug, which was wont to receive his libations of mum, not duly aired for its reception. "This confounded hot-brained boy!" he said to himself; "now that he begins to get out of danger, I can tolerate this life no longer.
We settle down in our new home, and I resolve to keep a diary. Tradesmen trouble us a bit, so does the scraper. The Curate calls and pays me a great compliment. My clear wife Carrie and I have just been a week in our new house, "The Laurels," Brickfield Terrace, Holloway a nice six-roomed residence, not counting basement, with a front breakfast-parlour.
This passage is at least as extraordinary a road from the breakfast-parlour to your apartment, as that staircase can be from the stables to mine." "I have been," said Catherine, looking down, "to see your mother's room." "My mother's room! Is there anything extraordinary to be seen there?" "No, nothing at all. I thought you did not mean to come back till tomorrow."
Waverley therefore glided into the house, without addressing him, and took his way to the breakfast-parlour, where he found his young friend Rose, who, though she neither exhibited the resentment of her father, the turbid importance of Bailie Macwheeble, nor the despair of the handmaidens, seemed vexed and thoughtful. A single word explained the mystery.
And then with a quiet, smiling face, she walked into the breakfast-parlour. "What does he say, Lily?" asked Bell. "What would you give to know?" said Lily. "I wouldn't give twopence for the whole of it," said Bell. "When you get anybody to write to you letters, I wonder whether you'll show them to everybody?" "But if there's any special London news, I suppose we might hear it," said Mrs Dale.
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