United States or Netherlands ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The curtains up in the drawing-room were moved as by a hand; but where was Dahlia's face? Dahlia knew that they were coming, and she was not on the look-out for them! a strange conflict of facts, over which Rhoda knitted her black brows, so that she looked menacing to the maid opening the door, whose "Oh, if you please, Miss," came in contact with "My sister Mrs. , she expects me. I mean, Mrs.
The fact is, darling, I am terribly worried. 'My darling, he will say " Aunt Dahlia interrupted at this point to observe that these Traverses seemed to be a pretty soppy couple of blighters, to judge by their dialogue. She also wished to know when I was going to get to the point. I gave her a look.
And now they reached the richly furnished conservatory in which a splendid snow-white dahlia with a scarce perceptible rosy tinge in its innermost petals was just then beginning to bloom. It was a great rarity in Europe at that time. Rudolf thought this specimen very beautiful, and maintained that only at Schönbrunn was a more beautiful one to be seen.
The thought of his approaching interview with Dahlia kept him dumb. As they were parting in the street, Major Waring said, "I will be here at twelve. Let me tell you this, Robert: she is going to be married; say nothing to dissuade her; it's the best she can do; take a manly view of it. Good-bye." Robert was but slightly affected by the intelligence.
Rhoda half lifted her head; the slight tone of a change to tenderness swelled the gulfs of pity, and she wept aloud. Dahlia untwisted her feet, and staggered up to her, fell upon her shoulder, and called her, "My love! good sister!" For a great mute space they clung together. Their lips met and they kissed convulsively.
Gussie shot in, and I heard the key turn. And feeling that there was no more that I could do in that quarter, I returned to the dining-room for further fruit salad and a quiet think. And I had barely filled my plate when the door opened and Aunt Dahlia came in. She sank into a chair, looking a bit shopworn. "Give me a drink, Bertie." "What sort?" "Any sort, so long as it's strong."
Lovell had never spoken to Algernon on that subject. She had spoken willingly and in deep sympathy of Dahlia.
Say a bit of a prayer to-night." "I pray every night," Dahlia answered. Her look of meek despair was hauntingly sad with Anthony on his way home. He tracked her sorrowfulness to the want of money; and another of his terrific vague struggles with the money-demon set in.
I first saw single dahlias in some "little gardens" in Cheshire, five or six years ago. No others had ever been cultivated there. In these quiet nooks the double dahlia was still a new-fangled flower.
The air was sort of heavy and languorous, if you know what I mean, with the scent of Young England and boiled beef and carrots. Aunt Dahlia, who was sitting with a bevy of the local nibs in the second row, sighted me as I entered and waved to me to join her, but I was too smart for that.
Word Of The Day