Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 2, 2025
"It's something you want to know very badly. At least, I should think you did. It's not Nevile's address." She took him gaily. "I don't want to know that at all, if it's a new one. I have three already." "Perhaps," said Morosine, with a friendly look, "it's to cancel some of them." She held up a book. "Is that what you mean? Do look. Songs, by S. Glyde. Did you mean to tell me of that?"
It was as if a light wind had ruffled her blood. Shortly afterwards Morosine was bowing before her. In this, perhaps, he betrayed himself; his hat covered his heart, he inclined from the hips, and his head bent with his body. An Englishman bows with the head only, and does not nowadays carry his hat upstairs.
"Well, Sanchia," he said, "here I am." The scattered party was suddenly strung to tensity; Morosine drew himself up, stiff as steel, but stood his ground. Here was the man he had waited for, who was necessary to him. Lady Maria, blinking her little black eyes, Melusine, with hers in a blur of mist, Gerald Scales, level and impassive, joined the other three.
Chevenix was gay. "Hulloa, Sancie this is ripping. I say, I have something frightfully interesting to tell you." Then he saw Morosine. "Hulloa, Alexis, is that you? Now we'll sit each other out, and Sancie won't have her news." "But I hope I shall," she cried. "I haven't got a secret in the world. Don't go, Prince, please. Mr. Chevenix shall tell you the news too. I haven't the faintest idea."
Once, when she looked at him, she saw the gleam of knowledge in his eyes. He and Ingram never spoke to each other directly; indirectly Morosine capped whatever Ingram said. It was these two who maintained the talk through her sensitive frame. Melusine and her husband exchanged glances she in obedience to his fidgety heels. He had dug a hole in the gravel deep enough to bury a kitten.
It was then to be observed that Morosine allowed himself to drift into the discussion of matters not usually subjects of ordinary conversation; but he did so without consciousness, and therefore without offence. Sanchia neither disapproved nor felt uncomfortable. They were, moreover, interesting, and rather material.
To her little party, then, came a solid wedge of three hundred people into rooms capable of holding with comfort fifty. Chevenix was by Sanchia's side at the top of the stair, chatting pleasantly about every new-comer, when he suddenly stopped. "Hulloa," he said, "here's Morosine, as smooth as a glass stiletto. He'll amuse you. I'll introduce him." Sanchia followed the leading of his eyes.
"Prince Morosine doesn't believe in them," Sanchia said. "He's vowed to abolish them." "So he may tell you, my dear. Don't you believe it. So long as they are good form they will be Alexis' form. He'd sooner die than covet his neighbour's wife." She reserved this for consideration. Meantime, she saw more of Morosine than of any other man, and got through January very well by his help.
Presently after she saw the process. It consisted in violent effort on Chevenix's part, languid attention from the other. Morosine dreamed over the speaker as if he were a lost soul. Then, his consideration being caught, he looked about him, and presently fixed upon her his melancholy eyes. She felt a little shiver, the sensation of goose-flesh in the spine not unpleasantly.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking