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Updated: May 24, 2025
He thought that he and the great-coat were both abandoned to the mercy of destiny; he thought that he would never get back home, and began sobbing so violently that he almost fell off the heap of dung. A big white dog with woolly tufts like curl-papers about its face, sopping from the rain, came into the shed and stared with curiosity at Yegorushka.
"I have no fancy for playing Absalom all the way home. Have you hurt your foot, Phil?" for Phil was rubbing his ankle vigorously, and looking rather uncomfortable. "I stumbled over Dropsy's nose," he said, ruefully. "When she fell down, her nose reached all the way round the tree, and tripped me up. I wish you would keep your nose in curl-papers, Dropsy."
Her large immovable face was pink and tremulous, and she sat with her hands on her knees, forgetting to roll up her bonnet-strings and prepare her curl-papers. "I'd like to write him just how I felt I wisht I knew how!" she burst out suddenly in a final effervescence of emotion. Her husband lifted his head and looked at her. "Would you? I feel that way too," he said with a sheepish laugh.
"Come in, little bird." The old lady, in pink merino and curl-papers, opened the door. Goneril held up her letter. "My cousin Jack is coming to Florence, and he is going to walk over to see me this afternoon. And may he stay to dinner, cara signora?" "Why, of course, Gonerilla. I am charmed!" Goneril kissed the old lady, and danced downstairs brimming over with delight.
Hopkins was philandering with curl-papers. "Get your cigar?" she asked, disinterestedly. "Sure," said Hopkins, "and I knocked around a while outside. It's a nice night." He sat upon the hornblende sofa, took out the stump of his cigar, lighted it, and gazed at the graceful figures in "The Storm" on the opposite wall. "I was telling you," said he, "about Mr. Whipple's suit.
"Come in, little bird." The old lady, in pink merino and curl-papers, opened the door. Goneril held up her letter. "My cousin Jack is coming to Florence, and he is going to walk over to see me this afternoon. And may he stay to dinner, cara signora?" "Why, of course, Gonerilla. I am charmed!" Goneril kissed the old lady, and danced downstairs brimming over with delight.
'A little bird, says Angelica. 'Poor Giglio! says mamma, pouring out the tea. 'Bother Giglio! cries Angelica, tossing up her head, which rustled with a thousand curl-papers. 'I wish, growls the King 'I wish Giglio was. . . 'Was better? Yes, dear, he is better, says the Queen. 'Angelica's little maid, Betsinda, told me so when she came to my room this morning with my early tea.
Eric was mildly surprised to find how lately their tropical intimacy had begun. Two months. . . . And no one in court or outside would believe the truth. . . . "Dined with B. in her boudoir, the house being in curl-papers. She unwontedly communicative, but tired and in need of rest."
"The songs, the curl-papers," said Jasmin, "brought in such a rivulet of silver, that, in my poetic joy, I broke into morsels and burnt in the fire that dreaded arm-chair in which my ancestors had been carried to the hospital to die." Madame Jasmin now became quite enthusiastic. Instead of breaking the poet's pens and throwing his ink into the fire, she bought the best pens and the best ink.
To that end her hair was every night put into curl-papers, with much tight twisting and sharp jerking, and Ida slept upon an irregular layer of small paper parcels, which made pillows a mockery. With all this, however, a damp day, or a good romp, would sometimes undo the night's work, to the great disgust of Nurse.
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