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Updated: May 23, 2025
Her mother, moreover, was manifestly proud that the child wasn't "one of those long-legged, gangling tom-boy girls, who seem so backward" and wear pigtails and chew slate pencils and dream. The gilded youths who boarded at the Hotel Metropole began to notice her.
The next entry: "My ammunition was no good!... But I am at a loss to understand what they are trying to do with ME.... Certainly I don't look like a very important personage in my present state.... Yet my captors are not treating me very badly ... aside from being locked up in this deserted villa with its broken chairs and vacant picture frames and general air of hasty abandonment there's nothing to disturb the tranquillity of my reflections except the recurring tramp of the muffled sentry below my broken window ... this building has a sort of Byzantine cut in its architectural design.... On the other side of the valley there's a minaret or two visible through the smoky haze.... Off to the left I can make out quite distinctly the outlines of a Greek Cross.... The road leading toward that Cross looks like the work of a Muscovite engineer, which speaks well for it.... It's built of the same material as the one over the mountains from Tiflis to Vladicaucaz and Kislovodsk.... I MUST BE ON RUSSIAN SOIL!... But what is mystifying to me is, how did that veiled girl of the Métropole manage to know the SENTRY who is guarding my person so methodically down below?... She has been here twice, now, and talks to him very confidentially.... QUATSCH! if she thinks to find any jewelry clinging to my person she'll have to fry me to get it out."
Collis and Lottie had arrived, bringing three American girls and a youthful American mother from the Hôtel Metropole, where they had gone to stay. Counting the hostess and her daughter, the number of women had been swelled to a dozen by these last arrivals, and dancing was to begin.
Of course she had been to the Metropole at Folkestone whatever place Joanna visited, whether Brodnyx or Folkestone, she went to the best hotel so she was not uninitiated in the mysteries of hotel menus and lifts and hall porters, and other phenomena that alarm the simple-minded; but that was many years ago, and it was more years still since she had slept away from Ansdore, out of her own big bed with its feather mattress and flowered curtains, so unlike this narrow hotel arrangement, all box mattress and brass knobs.
At the Royal Hotel a lugubrious porter says "l'hotel n'existe plus." The Victoria, which was the first hotel I ever stayed at in Russia, knew me no more. At the Metropole a preoccupied clerk said "Nima" without looking up from the news from the Silesian front which was engrossing him.
"If you will allow me to put you two ladies into a cab, the cabman will take you to the Hôtel Métropole. It's only a step away, but you'd better drive if you don't know your London." "We have never been in our London before," said Kathleen in a voice of intense pleasure. They now tripped confidently along by the side of the porter.
You have set the ball rolling, and I can assure you that the next Member whom Medchester sends here, whether it be you or any one else, will come fully pledged to a certain measure of Protection." Mr. Henslow nodded. "Very well," he said, gloomily. "Where are you staying? "At the Metropole. Mr. Bullsom is there also." "I will call," Mr. Henslow promised, "at three o'clock, if that is convenient."
It is a great pity you may not come with me and make a night of it." "Another time, perhaps," Lanyard said. "The night may yet come when you and I shall meet at the Metropole or the Admiral's Palace.... Who knows?" "Ah!" sighed the Prussian, enchanted. "What a night that will be, my friend!... But now, it is too bad, I really must ask you to step below. Such are my silly orders.
When he left the shop he went to a hotel and slept for twelve hours. The hotel Catalina, half-way between Las Palmas harbor and the town, was not crowded, and a number of the quests had gone to a ball at the neighboring Metropole. Barbara, going out some time after dinner, found the veranda unoccupied and sat down. Mrs.
He would not buy the things he would have bought fifteen years ago. Perhaps, in fact, his wife and daughters had come with him to London and stayed at the Metropole or the Savoy, and were at this moment being fitted by tailors and modistes patronised by Royalty. "Rosy, look! Do you see who that is? Do you recognise her? It is Mrs. Bellingham. She was little Mina Thalberg.
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