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Updated: September 25, 2025
"I went to get her at her hotel; she came down, looking very smart, with an unmarried friend, also an American and also very chic. "The three of us walked toward the Forum. We passed under the arch of Constantine. A small beggar-boy preceded us, getting ahead and turning hand-springs. I gave him some pennies. Susanna laughed.
I was shown a copy of the last letter dictated by a young French officer, and I asked to be allowed to copy it it was indeed a letter of a "chic" type. Chers Parrain et Marraine, Je vous ecris a vous pour ne pas tuer Maman qu'un pareil coup surprendrait trop. J'ai ete blesse le ... devant ... J'ai deux blessures hideuses et je n'en aurai pas pour bien longtemps.
One facetious French sentry insisted on talking English and flashing his lantern into the back of the ambulance, saying, "But I will see the face of each Mees for fear of an espion." He did so, murmuring "jolie pas mal chic," etc.! He finally left us, saying: "I am an officer. Well, ladies, good-bye all!"
She had apparently taken a great fancy to me, and we had had several conversations. "I don't know why, but you give me the impression that you are a stranger, too, like Aunt Martina and me," she said. "You don't look at all like the rest of the Englishwomen. Why, your back is not nearly so long. I could almost take you for an American, you are so chic." I laughed.
The obvious sincerity of his appreciation delighted her. "She is really musical!" he thought, and was convinced that while looking for a bit of coloured glass he had picked up an emerald. Marthe produced his overcoat, and when he was ready for the street Christine gazed at him and said: "For the true chic, there are only Englishmen!"
The chic little hat and the blouse she wore were adorably fresh from Paris, and as I watched her run her boat I could feel flowing into my body and soul a perfectly boundless store of new life. "I've been thinking you over," she said. "Have you?" I asked delightedly. I had often wondered if she had. "What do you think?" I inquired. Eleanore frowned perplexedly.
Also Phil intended to have a chat with President Wade, of the Canadian Lake Shores Railway, if he happened to be in the city; Ben Wade was an old boyhood friend of the Warings and Phil knew that he could talk to him freely without fear of his confidences being abused. At the docks almost the first person Kendrick encountered was Chic White.
They are not so chic as they are smart; their tailor mades, their furs, their hats with a preponderance of orange, their well-dressed legs and feet and a reserved brilliance that makes them the finest-looking women in the United States. It is a fine pastime to step out from the surge of Life for a minute and let it ebb and flow around one in the lobby of the St. Francis.
You should hear them the chaste, chic, nun-like Taube and the thick-chested old Brummer, singing that he is her dear old Grumbler and she his soft, swift Dove: "Suesser, dicker Brummer... Du mein Taubchen, zart und flink..." There is a sort of poetry about this a new sort of poetry about a new sort of war.
At the certain point in either art he was apt to break away in a frenzy of disgust and wreak himself upon some other. In these moods he sometimes designed elevations of buildings, very striking, very original, very chic, very everything but habitable.
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