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Updated: May 13, 2025
The passengers come on board; a few shadowy Frenchmen, with hatboxes shaped like the stoppers of gigantic case-bottles; a few shadowy Germans in immense fur coats and boots; a few shadowy Englishmen prepared for the worst and pretending not to expect it.
Hatboxes, bandboxes, and valises burst like a meteoric shower out of a crater. "A moi, a moi!" was the cry, from old men, young women, soldiers, shopkeepers, and pretres, scuffling and shoving together. Careless at once of grammar and of grace, I pulled and shouted with the best, till at length our plunder was caught, corded and poised on an herculean neck.
"Just a formal renunciation of the crown," he said. "Give as your reason, if you choose, your inability to fall in with the expressed desire of the Cabinet that you should marry a Serbian lady. It is essential that you should name me " The door opened and Lord Adalbert Beaumanoir came in leisurely. He carried an assortment of straps, rifled from leather trunks and hatboxes.
He plumped the heavy glass down upon the grimy counter in the dusty far corner of the little store and stared sourly at Pete Hamilton, who was apathetically opening hatboxes for the inspection of an Indian in a red blanket and frowsy braids. "How much?" The braided one fingered indecisively the broad brim of a gray sombrero. "Nine dollars."
Let me see: three bags, a valise, a hold-all, a portmanteau, two hatboxes, a camping sack, a case of books, and a handbag. Oh dear, what a collection of things to look after! How I wish we were like the dogs, dear creatures, which grow their own clothes and have only their tails to hold up, or to wag in sign of amity!"
She saw me handing up the pink-and-white Grace and Myrtle and the dignified, tailor-made White Pigeon, and she came out and apologized profusely for not having had room to accommodate me the night before. At last all the hatboxes and bloomin' luggage were safely stowed, the trunks were lashed in place behind, and I climbed to the top of the stage and took my seat beside my charges.
The farmer's wife cried a little when we told her; she liked your mother. She gave us a crock of butter and some jam. While your mother packed her little trunk it wasn't any bigger than one of your hatboxes I went out and stood at the gate. I kept thinking, 'By jingo, I'm a married man! Mr. and Mrs. Mark Constantine. And I felt sort of afraid and almost ashamed.
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