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There were the three unchangeable institutions the novel, the baby, and the missing pocket-handkerchief There was the gaudy jacket over the long trailing dressing-gown and the damp lady inside them, damp as ever! Receiving Oscar with a mouth drawn down at the corners, and a head that shook sadly in sympathy with him, Mrs.
Carson was pressing him as to his relations with the boy Grainger, who had been employed in Lord Alfred Douglas' rooms in Oxford. "Did you ever kiss him?" he asked. Oscar answered carelessly, "Oh, dear, no. He was a peculiarly plain boy. He was, unfortunately, extremely ugly. I pitied him for it." "Was that the reason why you did not kiss him?" "Oh, Mr. Carson, you are pertinently insolent."
Moreau could not make himself familiar with Oscar as Godeschal could; and perhaps that sincere friend to young Husson was behind Godeschal in these efforts to initiate the poor youth safely into the mysteries of life.
Fifty or sixty Harvard students came to his lecture dressed to caricature him in "swallow tail coats, knee breeches, flowing wigs and green ties. They all wore large lilies in their buttonholes and each man carried a huge sunflower as he limped along." That evening Oscar appeared in ordinary dress and went on with his lecture as if he had not noticed the rudeness.
It happened that Edmund had taken little notice of Oscar, thinking him a rude, quarrelsome, noisy fellow; while Oscar had a slight opinion of Edmund a boy who did not fight, or play games, and always afraid of soiling his clothes. He said to himself that he would "give Ned a pretty lively voyage." At first, Edmund was simply scornful; then he became irritated at last, angry in good earnest.
What a pity it is that Luther knew nothing of dress, had no sense of the becoming. He had courage but no fineness of perception. I'm afraid his neckties would always have been quite shocking!" and he laughed charmingly. "What about the inside of the platter, Oscar?" "Ah, Frank, don't ask me, I don't know; there was no grossness, no coarseness; but all delicate delights!
I wonder now could he have been that Oscar Gleeb we been hearin' so much about since comin' down here, got an idea he might abeen, ain't you, Boss?" "Just as like as not," Jack told him. "Huh!
I looked at Oscar, who had followed me. The driver of the cart had, on his own acknowledgment, been investigated and questioned by this extraordinary child; strolling up to the door of Browndown to see what he was doing there. Jicks was a public character at Dimchurch. The driver knew all about her.
I won't stand another moment in your way. September 2nd. A rainy day. Very little said that is worth recording between Oscar and me. My aunt, whose spirits are always affected by bad weather, kept me a long time in her sitting-room, amusing herself by making me exercise my sight.
"Baggage, sah?" the waiter asked again, as he dusted briskly the jackets of the three guests. Neither Charlie nor Oscar had the heart to make reply to this very natural question. It was Sandy who said: "We will not have our baggage up from the steamer to-night. We are going right on up north."
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