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Updated: August 26, 2024
And there were Kitty and John and they were both magnificent at least Kitty was she being altogether resplendent in black alpaca finished off by a fichu of white lace, her big, full-bosomed, robust body filling it without a crease; and he in a new suit bought for the occasion, and which fitted him everywhere except around the waist a defect which Kitty had made good by means of a well-concealed safety-pin in the back.
She made her sit down by her on an ottoman, and began talking to her as amicably as if she had known her a long time. She was about forty years old, with fine shoulders, a hook nose, a drawling voice, and on this evening she wore over her brown hair a simple guipure fichu that fell in a point at the back.
"Here, sir," said he, "are my papers. Will you be pleased to verify?" But the Commissary was now intent upon dinner. "No use," he replied, "no use; I am busy; I am quite satisfied. Give your entertainment." And he hurried on. "Fichu Commissaire!" thought Leon. The audience was pretty large; and the proprietor of the cafe made a good thing of it in beer.
John had told her once that his ideal girl wore something white or blue, and had her hair parted, and was connected in his mind some way with a wood fire. And he had talked and acted as if she was that girl. She'd had on the little blue dress that she'd bought, and made look modern with a fichu of Mrs. Hewitt's.... Clarence's voice interrupted her thoughts, rather plaintively. "Dear Joy!
It only wants the sleeves shortened and some lace put in, and the neck turned down to make it lower, and then a fichu put round. Here's the very thing! I'd fix it for you if you'd let me. I'd adore to do it." No one knew exactly how Diana managed to work matters, but for this occasion she took over Mrs. Fleming's toilet, and that astonished lady resigned herself into her hands.
The daylight that came in by the chimney made velvet of the soot at the back of the fireplace, and touched with blue the cold cinders. Between the window and the hearth Emma was sewing; she wore no fichu; he could see small drops of perspiration on her bare shoulders. After the fashion of country folks she asked him to have something to drink.
One day Mona was standing close beside her, while she tried on a fichu which she had been fixing for her to wear that evening, when the woman broke out abruptly, while she scanned her face intently: "For whom are you in mourning, Ruth?" Mona did not know just how to reply to this direct question; but after an instant's reflection she said: "The dearest friend I had in the world.
She crosses and presses her little fichu on her heart; we can see that distance dwindles affectionately in front of her. As she passes away, bent forward and smiling with her ripe lips, we can see the strength of her heart. Mist is gradually falling.
There is too much in them for the innocent baa-lamb picture I must paint." Her face fell. "I shan't do then?" "Dear child, you will," he reassured her. "I shall paint your lashes and not your eyes. Your lashes and a curve of pink cheek. Now go behind that screen and put on the sprigged cotton frock you will find there, with a muslin fichu and a mob cap.
When she finally appeared in soft brown merino, with a deep fichu of old, dark lace, and black ribbons, she courageously held out a delightfully cool, smooth hand. "At first," she said directly, "I thought it would be better not to see you at all. Yet that wasn't genteel; and I felt, too, that I must speak to you. Even at the danger, perhaps, of trespassing into your privacy."
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