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Updated: May 24, 2025
St Taurin is a somewhat dilapidated and cob-webby church, but it is certainly one of the interesting features of Evreux. Instead of keeping on the road to Caen after reaching the end of the great avenue just mentioned, we turn towards the south and soon enter pretty pastoral scenery. The cottages are almost in every instance thatched, with ridges plastered over with a kind of cobb mud.
St Taurin is a somewhat dilapidated and cob-webby church, but it is certainly one of the interesting features of Evreux. Instead of keeping on the road to Caen after reaching the end of the great avenue just mentioned, we turn towards the south and soon enter pretty pastoral scenery. The cottages are almost in every instance thatched, with ridges plastered over with a kind of cobb mud.
For the parish is sizing him up. There were two things to be said against Allan, and two only unless, of course, you consider drink an objection. Wit with him was less the moment's glittering flash than the anecdotal bang; it was a fine old crusted blend which he stored in the cellars of his mind to bring forth on suitable occasions, as cob-webby as his wine.
They were, evidently, for she gave utterance a sigh of relief when she drew a bundle of crackling documents from a side pocket of the valise, under a pile of filmy lace, at the sight of which Cora and the girls uttered exclamations of delight. Inez heard them. "Take it take it all!" she begged of them, thrusting into Mrs. Kimball's hands a mass of the beautiful cob-webby stuff.
Next Sunday, when the girls went to church, Ernestine wore a cob-webby scarf of ivory white over her "made-over" silk, and put a creamy day lily in her yellow hair, and the girls looking at her, silently thought: "No wonder papa calls her his picture!"
Apparently he did not need it, for he spent a long time with his back to her, lifting down, one after another, the tall cob-webby volumes from a distant shelf. "Oh, I say!" he exclaimed; and looking up she saw that he had drawn out his handkerchief and was carefully wiping the edges of the book in his hand.
The bar girls, he noted with interest, were revealingly costumed in pseudo-peplos of a purplish, cob-webby, silkish material. They wore no blouses, but long sashes that passed behind the neck, crossed the breasts and tied about the waist to hold up the short skirt. One of the girls came up to get his order. "I'm new on the planet," he smiled. "Let me have your best native light wine."
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