Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 27, 2025
He fancied he saw defiance written all over her, from the crown of her white hat to the tip of her white shoes. "Captain," she said, "It won't take a minute." He was on the point of refusing when she laid her hand on his. "Cut away!" he said, looking straight ahead of him. "Make it short." "It's about Mr. Hascombe. He's he's asked me to marry him."
"Now that it's all settled about Hal, I don't mind telling you that I refused Mr. Hascombe last night." On the gangway below, the passengers were slowly filing ashore. Among the last to debark was the Honorable Percival Hascombe, followed by a fur coat, a gun-case, two pigskin bags, a hat-box, and a valet. On his face was an expression of unutterable ennui.
He looked straight into her eyes for one resolution-breaking second, then he blew out the match and catching her to him, passionately kissed those smiling, upturned lips. "Mr. Hascombe!" she protested, shrinking away; but Percival had made his leap and nothing could stop him. "You are mine!" he cried rapturously, pressing her hand again and again to his lips. "It's all quite right, my darling.
He sat on a table, swinging his feet in unison with a lot of other young feet, while he sipped lemonade from the same glass as Bobby Boynton. As a matter of fact, the Honorable Percival Hascombe was experiencing a novel sensation. He was enjoying a sense of fellowship, to which all his life he had been a stranger.
Detail by detail he reviewed their acquaintance from the first time he had bowed over her fingers, in Lord Carlton's hunting-lodge, to the moment he had touched his lips to the same fingers in formal farewell on the terrace at Hascombe Hall. It had been such a well-bred courtship from the start, so thoroughly approved by both sides, so perfectly conducted throughout!
It was incredibly hot and suffocating inside, but he wriggled frantically forward, clawing and kicking like a crab. At last a dim light ahead spurred him to one final gallant effort. "Four minutes!" called the umpire as the Honorable Percival Hascombe emerged, blinking and breathless, and staggered to his feet.
The Honorable Percival Hascombe came aboard the Pacific liner about to sail from San Francisco, preceded by a fur coat, a gun-case, two pigskin bags, a hat-box, and a valet. He was tall and slender, and moved with an air of fastidious distinction. He wore a small mustache, a monocle, and an expression of unutterable ennui.
Percival found it decidedly hard going before he reached his steamer-chair. When he did so, he encountered a sight that filled him with chagrin. Wrapped in the folds of his rug was that obnoxious blue-and-lavender steamer-coat, with its owner snugly ensconced within, her eyes closed, and her cheek brazenly reposing on the Hascombe crest that adorned the pillow under her head!
Stumbling, half blind, this unfortunate victim to atmospheric conditions was guided up the remaining stops and out on deck, where he was anchored to the railing and kindly left to his fate. During the monotonous days that followed, the Honorable Percival Hascombe discovered that the satisfaction of being exclusive is usually tempered by the discomfort of being bored.
Don't be frightened. We shall be married any time, anywhere you say, to-morrow, if you like, in Hong-Kong." "But, Mr. Hascombe " "Not Mr. Hascombe. Percival, Percy, if you will. Fancy! Love at first sight. One glance on those desolate plains, and you were mine!" "But I'm not. That's what I'm trying to tell you." He looked at her fatuously. "But you will be! My little lady of the manor!
Word Of The Day
Others Looking