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Updated: June 13, 2025
There's a whisper that the mysterious woman, Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, was shot during the night by a discarded lover!" "Shot!" exclaimed Lady Ranscomb. "Dear me! How very dreadful. What really happened?" "I don't know. Madame Jacomet was told by her husband, who heard it in Ciro's this morning." "How terrible!" remarked Hugh, striving to remain calm. "Yes.
Those apparently irresponsible subalterns whom you see entertaining their lady friends at the Canton or Ciro's do, when they are at the front, have very heavy responsibilities. Even in the ordinary routine of trench life, so many decisions have to be made, with the chance of a "telling off" whichever way you choose, and the lives of other men hanging in the balance.
Won't you three be my guests at Ciro's?" "You are always in luck nowadays," sighed Madame d'Ambre. A shadow seemed to pass over the stolid face of the man, but she did not see it. "Naturally we accept the kind invitation, is it not so, dear Mademoiselle?" "I must be at Ciro's anyhow, about midnight," said Carleton, "for Schuyler asked me to meet him there for a Welsh rabbit after the opera.
Nigel who in his capacity as host had found little time for personal conversation during the service of dinner, deliberately led her a little apart when they passed out into the lounge for coffee and to watch the dancing. "My duties are over for a time," he said. "Do you realise that I have not had a word with you alone since our luncheon at Ciro's?"
"Not on the terrace," he said, quickly, for he could not bear to meet the sweet ghost of the past in the white dress and ermine stole, as he gave advice to the flesh and blood reality of the present, in the pink frock and roses. "What about Ciro's? Couldn't we find your mother somewhere, and get her to chaperon us for lunch? I should think it must be very jolly now, in the Galerie Charles Trois."
Hunterleys walked through the streets back to Ciro's Restaurant, filled with a new exhilaration. His eyes were bright, his brain was working all the time. The luncheon-party at the next table were still in the midst of their meal. Mr. Simpson was smoking a meditative cigarette with his coffee. Hunterleys resumed his place and ordered coffee for himself.
I was lunching with her at Ciro's to-day when I saw you and your daughter. I think I can say that I am a respectable person. I have a great many friends to whom I can refer you." "I am not thinking of engaging anybody, that I know of," Mr. Grex murmured.
At Monte Carlo, as all the world knows, there is an Arcade devoted to the most humorously expensive lace, diamond and general vanity shops in the universe, the Hôtel Métropole and Ciro's Restaurant. And Ciro's has a terrace where there are little afternoon tea-tables covered with pink cloths.
She discovered, moreover, that now that it had happened, she was scarcely shocked. Somehow it seemed in the nature of things these curious new things she had created for herself that she should be invited in this way to Ciro's and that there might be similar incidents to follow. She certainly was not shocked.
Sir Henry has been about there most of the morning but he has just gone in to Ciro's to lunch, so I shall have at least half-an-hour." "Good luck to you!" Selingman exclaimed heartily. "Who knows but that the big things may come, even this afternoon?
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