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Updated: June 22, 2025
What if, after he lost interest, she should find herself without money, worse of than she had been when she sold herself into slavery highly moral and conventionally correct slavery, but still slavery to the little general with the peaked pink-silk nightcap hiding the absence of the removed toupee and with the wonderful pink-silk pajamas, gorgeously monogramed in violet and the tiny feet and ugly hands and those loathsome needle-pointed mustaches and the hideous habit of mumbling his tongue and smacking his lips?
Dorothy Fair, in a great plumed hat of peach-blow silk, in a pearly silk gown and pink-silk mitts, in a white-muslin pelerine all wrought with cunning needlework, sat in the parson's pew, and uplifted her lovely face towards her father in the pulpit, and nobody knew how her whole mind and fancy were set, not upon the sermon, but upon Eugene Hautville in the singing-seats behind her.
It was in some such way that I, as a lad, realized, as I never else should have done, the red face and the pink-silk stockings of the Hon. Mr. Scarlett, the happy candidate who pretended to enjoy the fun, as with the best grace possible under the circumstances he smiled on the ladies in the windows of the street, as he was borne along and bowed to all.
She would almost have been willing to be hanged, let alone married, in a pink-silk combination. The saleswomen scented mystery and romance here. The girl was no beauty, but then, she was astonishingly young; and the old gentleman was very distinguished-looking quite a personage.
"Meanwhile, at tea time Mrs. De Lancy Witherspoon arrived for the week-end. Bibby, the butler, followed by Stocking, the second man, bearing the hand luggage, escorted the guest to the Bouguereau Room, as the pink-silk chamber is called." Mr.
Since poor Billy's parents adopted me and made me a cousin of Constance, I can trot up her stone steps any minute; and she treats me as if I'd had my first bottle in a pink-silk boudoir. I'll make it my business to run up there twice a day and boost for you." "Don't be too strong!" Johnny hastily warned her. "Boost half of the time if you want to, but be sure and knock the other half."
His mother baking for Friday night in a blue-and-white gingham apron that enveloped her. Red curls some one's somewhere. The string of tiny Oriental pearls that rose and fell with the little pouter-pigeon swell of a bosom. Pretty perturbation. His cousin's sister-in-law, Ada. A small hole in a pink-silk stocking, peeping like a little rising sun above the heel of a rubbed gilt slipper.
"That's mine that one in the pink-silk dress" a dirty little finger was pointed to a huge and highly decorated doll in the center of the window "that and the blue beads, and that box of paints with the picture on it, and " "You're a pig, all right. Want the earth, don't you? Well, you can't have it."
They were all quite sure that they had walked right into the middle of a fairy-tale, and they were the more ready to believe it because they were so tired and hungry. They were, in fact, so hungry and tired that they hardly noticed where they were going, or observed the beauties of the formal gardens through which the pink-silk Princess was leading them.
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