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Billy resignedly let himself to the floor, and appropriated the screwdriver. "I thought Wedgewood was dove color, and consisted chiefly of ladies in deshabille, doing the tango on a parlor ornament. I smashed one in my youth, so I know. There, it's open now. I may as well unpack what's here. These seem to be demi-tasses. 'You may tempt your upper classes, With your villainous demi-tasses.
At the club whose billiard players have the almost unique privilege between masse shots of regarding at close range the tombstones of an aristocratic cemetery, Helen and her uncle were comfortably lingering over their demi-tasses before Mr. Osgood's guest gave speech to the thoughts within her. "You are a dear to give me this luncheon," she began. The old gentleman bowed a courtly head.
We permit our enormous foreign population to see us at our legislative work; and then we go proudly and sanctimoniously to restaurants and allow Italian, German and French waiters to pour red wine into our demi-tasses. Oh, we are not in our cups only in our half-cups. It would all be very amusing were it not so terribly serious.
In one of the cafes there, a mingling of all the nations under the sun was drinking demi-tasses, absinthe, vermouth, or old wines, in the comparative silence that had succeeded to a song, sung by a certain favorite of the Spahis, known as Loo-Loo-j'n-m'en soucie guere, from Mlle.
He began shaking it in Gard's eyes, insisting once more on wagering it that his American friend could not pick the card. With the demi-tasses and cigars he ordered the deck and table. He started the game, having locked out the blockhead of a waiter and dropped the key into his own pocket. Gard would not play. His ire was rising. The small German declared himself mistreated.
She felt emboldened to remark, with an air of ease: "Oh, Saunders, don't forget to lay the spoons when you serve the demi-tasses." Mr. Brown laughed. "Oh, say!" he chortled, "you ARE funny when you hand out that highfalutin stuff!" No; he surely hadn't meant admiration for her savoir-faire; yet, for some reason, Missy didn't feel disappointed.
Hitty knew a fish market where the clams were imported direct from Cape Cod by the nephew of a man who used to go to school with her husband's brother, and he warranted every clam she bought of him. They were served in soup plates and the drawn butter in demi-tasses, but Hitty would have it no other way.
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