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Updated: June 18, 2025
"I know now that the excitement in the Cove was intense; that for weeks afterwards the women carried their silver teaspoons and chinaware to bed with them; and I should explain that the housewives of Polreen are inordinately proud of their teaspoons and chinaware heirlooms which mark the only degrees of social importance recognised among the inhabitants of that happy Cove.
The ebony and silver furniture, the dainty carpet of La Savonniere, the silks of Tours, the tapestries of the Gobelins, the gold-work and the delicate chinaware of Sevres the best of all that France could produce was centred between these four walls. Nothing had ever passed through that door which was not a masterpiece of its kind.
Canada conceded to the United States its intermediate tariff rates on thirteen minor schedules chinaware, nuts, prunes, and whatnot. These were accepted as equivalent to the special terms given France, and Canada was certified as being entitled to minimum rates. The United States had saved its face.
"There's Dick Penfield, spendin' a hundred thousand a year on pictures an' vases an' rugs, and Sam Brucklin makin' his Saratoga joint more like a second Salon than a first-class bucket-shop, and Larry Wintefield, who knows more about a genuine Daghestan than you or me knows about a Morse sounder, and Al MacAdam, who can't buy chinaware fast enough!
"Oh!" said Cecilia, shutting the drawer of lockets which tempted her most, "these are not the things which I want. Have you any china figures? any mandarins?" "Alack-a-day, miss, I had a great stock of that same chinaware; but now I'm quite out of them kind of things; but I believe," said he, rummaging one of the deepest drawers, "I believe I have one left, and here it is."
It occurred to Peter for the first time, as he sat looking at the chinaware, that he knew nothing about himself; whether his kinsmen were valiant or recreant he did not know. Even his own father he knew little about except that his mother had said his name was Peter, like his own, and that he had gone down the river on a tie boat and was drowned. A faint sound attracted Peter's attention.
She threw a lonely wineglass at the fern-dish and smashed a decanter. Then she pushed off the table about a hundred dollars' worth of chinaware, and kicked her chair over backward. She had been famous for her back-kick in her public dancing-days. She howled to her maid and went into her wardrobe with both hands. She acted like a windmill in a dress-shop.
She saw a staff of Hebe-like waitresses in blue chambray and pink ribbons, to match the chinaware, and all bearing a marked resemblance to herself in her last flattering photograph, moving among a crowd of well brought up but palpably impoverished young people, mostly social workers and artists. They were all young, and most of them very beautiful.
Your connoisseur does not collect chipped chinaware. . . . There's the chance, too, that the mare, having once fallen, will throw herself again by the same trick." "And women are like horses," thought Ruth as they rode on.
Set a spell and I'll dish you some," she urged. The men looked at each other in some uncertainty. After a moment Munn said, "All right, if it ain't too much bother, Mrs. Brenner." "Not a bit," she cried eagerly. She bustled about, searching her meagre stock of chinaware for uncracked bowls. "Set down?" suggested Mart. Munn sat down with a sign, and his companions followed his example.
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