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Updated: May 1, 2025
Two littul hearts we offer. See United in love, faith, hope, and char OW!" The conclusion of the duet was marred. The Child Sir Galahad suddenly stiffened, and, uttering an irrepressible shriek of anguish, gave a brief exhibition of the contortionist's art. The voice of Mrs. Lora Rewbush was again heard from the wings; it sounded bloodthirsty.
Next the skin, merino combinations, unwieldy garments requiring a contortionist's education to put on without entangling your front and hind limbs. The "combies" were specially buttoned with an infinitude of small, scarcely visible buttons, which always wanted sewing on and replacing, and were peevish about remaining in the button hole.
By some extraordinary process of the contortionist's art, she curled herself out of her chair on to the hearthrug and knelt before me, her hands clasped on my knee. "You're not angry with me, are you?" she asked in her rich contralto. I took both her hands, rose, and assisted her to rise. I was not going to be mesmerised again. "Of course not," I laughed. Indeed my wrath had fallen from me.
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