United States or South Africa ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Dosson had scarcely spoken and yet had remained perfectly placid, which was exactly what Gaston would have chosen. No hauteur could have matched it he had gone so little out of his way.
"Don't you worry Gaston will make it all right." "Gaston? it will kill Gaston!" "Is that what they say?" Delia demanded. "Gaston will never look at me again." "Well then he'll have to look at ME," said Mr. Dosson. "Do you mean that he'll give you up he'll be so CRAWLING?" Delia went on. "They say he's just the one who'll feel it most.
Dosson used to look sometimes as he had looked of old when George Flack "located" them somewhere as if he expected to see their heated benefactor rush back to them with his drab overcoat flying in the wind; but this appearance usually and rather touchingly subsided.
Here Mme. de Brecourt's bold front won another victory; she maintained, as she let her brother know, that it was too late for any policy but a policy of confidence. "Lord help us, is that what they call confidence?" the young man gasped, guessing the way they all had looked at each other; and he wondered how they would look next at poor Mr. Dosson himself.
You met him surely. A very fine man. I thought he rather hit it off with her." "Seigneur Dieu!" Gaston Probert murmured under his breath. Mr. Dosson had opened the door; he made his companion pass into the small dining-room where the table was spread for the noonday breakfast. "Where are the chickens?" he disappointedly asked.
Fidelia Dosson, whose name had been shortened, was twenty-five years old and had a large white face, in which the eyes were far apart. Her forehead was high but her mouth was small, her hair was light and colourless and a certain inelegant thickness of figure made her appear shorter than she was.
"I never heard such trash you can't behave that way! Has he got engaged to some one else in America?" Delia threw out. "Why if it's over it's over. I guess it's all right," said Mr. Dosson, kissing his younger daughter. "I'll go back or I'll go on. I'll go anywhere you like." "You won't have your daughters insulted, I presume!" Delia cried.
Dosson. "I don't care if you show us a good one." "Oh I'll show you a good one don't you worry." Mr. Flack's tone was ever that of keeping the poor gentleman mildly but firmly in his place. "Well, you've got to order the dinner then," said Francie. "Well, you'll see how I could do it!" He towered over her in the pride of this feat. "He has got an interest in some place," Delia declared.
Dosson returned "Well, I guess you'll grow again!" And Francie made the point that it was no use for him to pose as a martyr, since he knew perfectly well that with all the celebrated people he saw and the way he flew round he had the most enchanting time.
I don't think the Proberts are with us much." "Oh he doesn't mean them," said Mr. Dosson. "Well, I do!" cried Delia. At one of the ormolu tables, near a lamp with a pink shade, Gaston insisted on making at least a partial statement. He didn't say that he might never have another chance, but Delia felt with despair that this idea was in his mind.
Word Of The Day