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Updated: May 20, 2025
"All right," said Damaris, tucking the jasmine into the belt of her white dress, which she had never done before. "I'll come. Twenty pairs of donkeys climbing up a hill will be an awfully funny sight, don't you think so, Mr. Lumlough?" She smiled across at Mr. Lumlough, who was thereupon transported to the portals of the seventh heaven with a piece of toast and marmalade in his right hand.
She stood for quite some seconds in her conspicuous position, as though debating within herself upon the choice. As Mr. Lumlough subsequently remarked to his panting partner, in his customary slang, "She had a nerve!"
Nineteen pairs had been filled from the different hotels, one pair was still minus riders. Would Damaris make a couple with Mr. Lumlough? Mr. Lumlough, who was of the raw age of nineteen and who worshipped in secret at the girl's shrine, blushed divinely salmon-pink and coughed. Damaris shook her head.
She was just the slightest bit scared, and, being very young, felt incapable of prescribing for her burnt finger-tips. She had only to keep away from the fire, but, as I have already said, she was very young. "Do, Damaris! We are taking our lunch on donkeys, as well." "But why not let the empty pair go without riders? Or let Mr. Lumlough go on one and let the other trot by its side without anyone?
Ellen Thistleton, with the royal asp of ancient Egypt with a slight list to starboard above her heated countenance, stood alone in the middle of the room, with a glass of champagne in one hand. Before her stood Mr. Lumlough and the colonel for whom the gilded asp was being worn at such a rakish angle.
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