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Updated: May 9, 2025
I should perhaps tell you that I am not amenable to the pathetic. 'I am sorry, sir, if I 'ave seemed to tresparse on your private feelin's, said the clerk, cringing and stealing a step. 'At least, sir, you will never pe'suade me that you are not a perfec' gentleman; I know a gentleman when I see him; and as such, I 'ave no 'esitation in throwin' myself on your merciful consideration.
"I had the same feeling till a dream, which reveal' to me that the feeling was my fault. The manuscrip' is perfec'." "Messieurs," Mme. Castanado broke in, "please to hear Mlle. Aline." And Aline spoke: "Perfect or no, I think that's what we don't require to conclude.
I should perhaps tell you that I am not amenable to the pathetic." "I am sorry, sir, if I 'ave seemed to tresparse on your private feelin's," said the clerk, cringing and stealing a step. "At least, sir, you will never pe'suade me that you are not a perfec' gentleman; I know a gentleman when I see him; and as such, I 'ave no 'esitation in throwin' myself on your merciful consideration.
Gien ye wad lat a body speyk 'at kens naething,'cep' 'at oot o' the moo' o' babes an' sucklin's an'troth I'm naither babe nor sucklin' this mony a lang, but I'm a muckle eneuch gowk to be ane o' the Lord's innocents, an' hae him perfec' praise oot o' the moo' o' me! She paused a moment, feeling it was time the laird should say something-which immediately he did.
It was Candace, who had left her little shop on Temple Place to help forward the garden party, against whom he had come up, careless where he was going. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" Joel brought himself up remorsefully, trying to recover the collection of rag dolls sent spinning from her black arms. "An' dey were sech perfec' beauties!" mourned Candace, twisting her hands sorrowfully together.
For the ae perfec' man said he was born intil the warl for that ae special purpose, to dee the wull o' him that sent him. A man's for a heap o' eeses, but that ae eese covers them a'. Whan he's deein' the wull o' God, he's deein jist a'thing.
The old man never thort what a comfort them sermons wus a-goin' to be to a road-agent, though. That time we stopped Slim Mike's stage, an' he didn't hev no more manners than to draw on me, them sermons wus a perfec' blessin' to me the thought uv 'em cleared my head ez quick ez a cocktail. An' "
Yes; it was strange that now, when some stabbing instinct had made her know that Maurice was not her "perfec' gentil knight," that same instinct should make her know that she loved him!... Not with the old love; not with the love that could overflow into words, the love that had kissed him when he had been "bothered"! "I can never kiss him again," she thought.
'Twas easy to see 'tis to Mlle. Aline he's in love and he come talk to Mélanie biccause tha'z the nearess he can reach to Mlle. Aline egcep' juz' saying good-day whiles passing on street or at church door. Oh, he behave the perfec' gen'leman, and still tha'z one reason she get that li'l' 'Ector. Yes, we all see that, only Mélanie she don't. So Mlle.
I said, calm and dignified, like the perfec' lady I am, 'All ri', you can do as you please with your old show, I don't care, I don't care, nothing bothers me, and with those kind words I caper up to the dressing room and take that expensive gown I wear in the third act and stuck it in the wash bowl and turned on the water. It needed cleaning anyway.
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