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Updated: June 13, 2025
I can't surmise one mite which way she'll turn; but she's got to reckon with Cornelia E Briskett, if she caves in." Miss Briskett did not vouchsafe any inquiry as to the contents of the letter which had afforded such obvious satisfaction. She had probably recognised Elma's writing on the envelope, but made no inquiries as to her progress.
Symptoms of dissatisfaction had already set in witness that same rejected tea and this afternoon's experience had established a certain amount of intimacy, which would entail endless difficulties in the future. Poor Miss Briskett, she was indeed sorely tried!
Miss Briskett was annoyed with herself, but she was much more annoyed with Cornelia, and considered that she had good reason to be so. "I have no time to think of frivolities in the morning, my dear. I am too busy with household duties.
Mrs Moffatt glanced from one to the other, giggled meaningly, and stepped into the cab. They were alone; as much alone in the midst of the noise and confusion, as in the quiet of the railway carriage. "Well," said Guest, regretfully; "I suppose I must say good-bye! I'll come round soon to see how you are getting along, and Miss Briskett, here is my card. It gives the address of my club.
It was, moreover, extraordinarily thick, and stood out from the head in a crisp mass, rippling into big natural waves, while behind each ear was a broad streak of a lighter shade, almost flaxen in colour. No artificial means could have produced such an effect; it was obviously the work of nature. "American nature!" Miss Briskett told herself with a sniff.
They sat down in their usual positions, heads bent, hands folded on the middle of their clean white aprons; feet tucked carefully out of sight; there was no outward sign of irreverence or inattention in their demeanour, but Miss Briskett felt, that every single woman of them was absorbed utterly, consumedly absorbed in casting sly glances at that distracting white vision in the easy chair; at the dully glowing hair, the floating folds of white, the tiny, extended feet.
"I don't doubt it, but in Rome one must do as the Romans do, Miss Briskett! In England a man does not take a girl to a theatre unchaperoned. It's not the thing." "I don't care a mite. It's the custom with us, anyway, and there's no country in the world where women are more respected. What's the harm, I want to know!" "No harm at all. That's not the question. It's simply not the custom."
"Won't you tell us, Mr. Briskett?" interposed Herman. "Tell you what?" "Where the vessel is going." "Going to sea," answered the head steward, good-naturedly; for he rather enjoyed the perplexity of the crew. "Is there any secret about the ship's destination?" "You must ask Mr. Fluxion.
Don't you want to kiss me, and wish me a real good time?" Miss Briskett drew back coldly, but the little hands clasped her shoulder, the young face pressed nearer and nearer.
Cornelia sat banked up against her pillows, her ruddy locks framing her little face in a glory of rippling curls and waves, her lips pursed in slow reflection. "No-o! I guess Miss Briskett and party would rather not! I don't see the fun of squeezing in among a lot of grandees, who don't want anything of us but just to quiz and stare, and make remarks.
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