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Updated: June 28, 2025
I wonder you haven't more pride. A chit like that, who keeps the hotel books, and gives out the sugar." "Her father was " "Never mind what her father was. What is she? I wonder you don't propose to ask her home on a visit." "She would not disgrace " This was too much for Mrs. Cockayne.
Cockayne interjected, pointing to Carrie's hands, "and in that very room, I suppose, Miss Caroline Cockayne appeared with her fingers out of her glove." "And where have you been all day, my dear?" Mr. Cockayne said, in his blandest manner, to his wife. "We poor benighted creatures," responded Mrs. Cockayne, "have been pray don't laugh. Mr.
Cockayne, as was his wont, speedily re-assumed his equanimity, and chatted pleasantly with Sophonisba as they walked along the Rue de la Paix, across the Place Vendôme, into the Rue Castiglione. Mrs. Cockayne followed with Theodosia; Carrie had begged to be left behind, to write a long letter to her intellectual friend, Miss Sharp. Mr. Cockayne stopped before the door of Mr. John Arthur.
Cockayne, addressing her husband. "This is your pet, sir, who was so fond of his beetles! Why, the man would sell the nightingales out of his trees, if he could catch them, I've no doubt." "The story is a little jarring, I confess," Pater said. "But after all, why shouldn't he sell the flowers also, when he sells the pretty things he writes about them?" "Upon my word, you're wonderful.
I never tread the deck of a Boulogne steamer without thinking of her sweet, loving face; I never wait for my luggage in the chilly morning at the Chemin de Fer du Nord terminus, without seeing her agony as the deserted one. The Cockayne girls are prospering in all the comfort of maternal dignity in the genteel suburbs; and yet were they a patch upon forlorn Emmy Sharp?
Cockayne ventured, in an unguarded moment, to ask, putting aside for a moment Mr. Bayle St. John's scholarly book on the Louvre. "At any rate, Mr. Cockayne, we do humbly venture to hope that you will be able to spare us an hour this morning to accompany us to the Magasins du Louvre. We would not ask you, but we have been told the crowd is so great that ladies alone would be torn to pieces."
Cockayne and her two elder daughters were exhausted, and threw themselves into seats, and vowed that Paris was the most tiring place on the face of the earth. "My dear," said Mr. Cockayne, addressing his wife, "people find Paris fatiguing because they walk about the streets all day, and give themselves no rest. If we did the same thing at Clapham "
Cockayne, as it has occurred to many Englishmen in Paris, that he might make up for his ignorance of French by speaking in a voice of thunder. He seemed to have come to the conclusion that the French were a deaf nation, and that they talked a language which he did not understand in order that he might bear their deafness in mind. For once in her life Mrs.
"Well, well," poor Cockayne feebly expostulated, "if it's not far, let us go and see the brooch." "There, mamma!" cried both Sophonisba and Theodosia in one breath. "Mind, the one with the three diamonds." Mrs.
I shall first introduce the Cockaynes as holding the greater "lengths" on my stage. So was it with the Cockaynes, an intensely British party. "My dears," said Mr. Cockayne, "we must husband our time. I think it's at five the band plays in the Tuileries gardens; after the band " "But, dear papa, we want to look at the shops!" interposes the gentle Sophonisba. "The what, my dear?
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