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Updated: June 17, 2025
Every second chair appeared to be filled by a giggling, pink-cheeked girl; the others being suitably occupied by youths of the opposite sex all pleasantly occupied. The minister conscientiously searched for the chair he had promised to fetch to Fanny Dodge; but it never once occurred to him to bring Fanny out to the cool loveliness of mingled moon and lantern-light.
All the day was before him, all of many days. He drifted down the street and across to Sixth Avenue. He clung to the safety of one of the L posts as the traffic surged past. The clang of surface cars and the throb of motors filled the air constantly. He wondered at the daring of a pink-cheeked slip of a girl driving an automobile with sure touch through all this tangle of traffic.
B. and I spent a morning in The Enormous Room without results, an astonishing acquisition of nervousness excepted. All that afternoon we waited. Also we waited all next morning. We spent our time talking quietly with a buxom pink-cheeked Belgian girl who was in attendance as translator for one of les femmes. She struck me immediately as being not only intelligent but alive.
She was an April-natured, pink-cheeked girl, with eyes that would have made any jeweller in England think of his trade one who evidently took her day in the daytime, frequently caught the early worm, and had little to do with yawns or candlelight. She came and passed him; he fancied that her countenance changed.
I suppose you don't know where I'm taking you?" "I don't think we much care," Celia answered, and Evelyn nodded. Both were pink-cheeked and bright-eyed with the delight of the motion. The doctor did not explain where they were going until they had nearly reached their destination. They had passed many fine country places all along the way, and had reached a fork in the river.
Through the clucking hens I strolled across to the dwelling house and there in the kitchen I found the mother, one of the pink-cheeked daughters, and the idiot son. They set about getting me some breakfast, and a few minutes later in came the father and another son, a strapping fellow not in the least resembling the idiot, and shortly afterwards appeared the other daughter.
The pink-cheeked, white-haired woman looked up. You saw that her eyes were wonderfully young. She made three marks on a piece of paper, pushed a call-button at her desk, rose, and hugged Emma McChesney thoroughly and satisfactorily, then held her off a moment and demanded to know where she had bought her hat. "Got it ten minutes ago, in the millinery department downstairs. Had to.
"I tell you I only had two glasses of beer!" cried Charlie, goaded, "and I can prove it by Johnny Challan." Orde turned to survey the pink-cheeked, embarrassed young boy thus designated. "How many glasses did Johnny Challan have?" he inquired. "He didn't drink none to speak of," spoke up the boy. "Then why this joyless demeanour?" begged Orde.
"Hello, hello! Oh, what is the matter with central!" The dark-haired, pink-cheeked girl at the telephone jiggled the receiver impatiently while a straight line of impatience marred her pretty mouth. "Oh dear, oh dear!" "At last! Is that you, Mollie Billette? I've been trying to get you for the last half hour. What's that?
Meanwhile Amy Blackford, the last of the trio to whom the dark-haired, pink-cheeked little person who was Betty Nelson had telephoned, had stopped merely to remove the apron from in front of her pink-checked gingham dress and was now flying along the two short blocks that separated her house from the Nelsons'. As for poor Mollie Billette, she was nearly distracted.
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