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"What imbeciles policemen can be!" "What, indeed! Behold, senor, I show you the ruin wrought by these swine. This way." L. Hernandez rose, waddled stiffly to the back room, and threw open the door. "There!" she exclaimed, dramatically. Evidently these were the lady's living apartments a bed-chamber and a smaller room at the left, in which were a gas-range and some smaller culinary apparatus.
In the kitchen grandmother did all her cooking with a wood fire using the ashes for the lye barrel and the feasts that came steaming from her famous oven have never been equalled on any gas-range ever made. And even the wood had to be split just so and be "clear" and right, or grandmother would scold grandfather for not wearing his near-seeing specs when he bought it.
"Come here," she commanded suddenly, addressing the startled T. A. "You nagged until I had to take you along. Here's a chance to justify your coming. I want your opinion on the kitchen." "Kitchens," announced T. A. Buck of the English clothes and the gardenia, "are my specialty," and entered the domain of the gas-range and the sink.
"What?" gasped Barton. Very gingerly he took the pulpy sheet between his thumb and forefinger. It was a full-page picture of a big gas-range, and slowly, as he scanned it for some hidden charm or value, it split in two and fell soggily back to its mates. Once again for sheer nervous relief he burst out laughing.
Hassiebrock, in the green black of a cotton umbrella and as sparse of frame, moved around to the gas-range, scraping a match and dragging a pot over the blue flame. "Never mind, ma; I ain't hungry."
Women have been burned so severely as to faint: they have drowned in a bathtub: they have fallen down dumb-waiter shafts: they have been asphyxiated when the gas-range went out. And to think that only a moment ago, he had been vexed with her.
The room was very hot.... In Agatha's time supper would have been cooked upon the gas-range in the cellar, he reflected.... Virginia had risen and made as though to take his dress-suit case, her pleasant yellow face as imperturbable as an idol's. "No don't bother, Virginia," said Colonel Musgrave. He met Patricia in the dining-room, on her way to the kitchen.
While she aspired and worked she lived like a nun in a cell. And now that she had something to do, she could be sorry for him. She made the best possible dinners for him on their gas-range. She realized sometimes, not often, for she was not a contemplative seer, but a battered woman that their marriage had been as unfair to him as it was to her.
And yet this gentle regret was all that she wanted of love. In the kitchen she found Miss Danton, the musical spinster, making her scant supper of tea and toast on the gas-range.
Bines opened the door. It was the tiny kitchen of Philippe. Philippe, himself, in shirt-sleeves, sat in a chair tilted back close to the gas-range, the Courier des Etats Unis in his hands and Paul on his lap. Celine ironed the bosom of a gentleman's white shirt on an ironing board supported by the backs of two chairs.
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