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Updated: June 3, 2025
"I think that an opera-box with Miss Eschelle is the easiest confessional in the world." "That's something like a compliment. "Will you be my teacher?" "Or your pupil," the girl said, in a low voice, standing near him as she rose. The play was over. In the robing and descending through the corridors there were the usual chatter, meaning looks, confidential asides.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Eschelle," he said, after a second, "I hardly know which to admire most, the beauty, or the wit, or the innocence of the American women." "There is nothing so confusing, though, as the country innocence," the girl said, with the most natural air; "it never knows where to stop." "You are too absurd, Carmen," her mother interposed; "as if the town girl did!"
"You seem to be in a brown study," said Carmen, who came up, leaning on the arm of the Earl of Chisholm. "I'm lost in admiration. You must make allowance, Miss Eschelle, for a person from the country." "Oh, we are all from the country. That is the beauty of it. There is Mr. Hollowell, used to drive a peddler's cart, or something of that sort, up in Maine, talking with Mr.
A gallery of modern pictures appeals for the most part to the senses represents the pomps, the color, the allurements of life. It struck Henderson forcibly that this gallery, which he knew well, appeared very different looking at it with Miss Debree from what it would if he had been looking at it with Miss Eschelle.
A gallery of modern pictures appeals for the most part to the senses represents the pomps, the color, the allurements of life. It struck Henderson forcibly that this gallery, which he knew well, appeared very different looking at it with Miss Debree from what it would if he had been looking at it with Miss Eschelle.
"As one would a book, as a familiar authority." "I suppose I ought to be flattered, if you will excuse the street expression, to have my stock quotable. Perhaps you couldn't tell whether Miss Eschelle was a bull or a bear in this case?" "I don't clearly know what that is. She didn't offer me any," said Margaret, in a tone of carrying on the figure without any personal meaning.
Curiosity is awake. The extreme of social refinement and a mild Bohemianism almost touch. It passes beyond the affectation of knowing persons who write books and write for the press, artists in paint and artists in music. "You cannot be sure in the most exclusive circle" it was Carmen Eschelle who said this "that you will not meet an author or even a journalist."
Miss Forsythe told Margaret that she thought Miss Eschelle was a dangerous woman. Margaret did not defend her, but she did not join, either, in condemning her; she appeared to have accepted her as a part of her world. And there were other things that Margaret seemed to have accepted without that vigorous protest which she used to raise at whatever crossed her conscience.
"No, no," said Carmen, audaciously; "by this time I should be buried in Seville. No, I should prefer Halifax, for it would have been a pleasure to emigrate from Halifax. Was it not, Mr. Ponsonby?" "I can't remember. But it is a pleasure to sojourn in any land with Miss Eschelle." "Thank you. Now you shall have two cups. Come." The next morning, Mr.
"Because these philanthropists, like Mr. Henderson and Uncle Jerry Hollowell, are all building on top; putting on the frosting before the cake rises." "Haven't you found out, Mr. Ponsonby," Margaret interrupted, "that if there were eight sides to a question, Miss Eschelle would be on every one of them?" "And right, too. There are eight sides to every question, and generally more.
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