Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 4, 2025
Another privilege of celebrity is to throw away one's cigar, and walk out of the smoking room if one is bored. Mr. Crewe was, in a sense, the host. He indicated with a wave of his hand the cigars and cigarettes which Mrs. Pomfret had provided, and stood in a thoughtful manner before the empty fireplace, with his hands in his pockets, replying in brief sentences to the questions of Mr.
Why, I believe Rangely's actually going home with her." "He asked her to drop him at the Inn," said Mrs. Fronde. "He's head over heels in love already." "It would be such a relief to dear Rose," sighed Mrs. Pomfret. "I like the girl," replied Mrs. Fronde, dryly. "She has individuality, and knows her own mind. Whoever she marries will have something to him." "I devoutly hope so!" said Mrs. Pomfret.
Pomfret, when she saw the direction which he was taking, lost the thread of her conversation, and the lady who was visiting her wore a significant expression. "Victoria," said Mr. Crewe, "let's go around to the other side of the house and look at the view." Victoria started and turned to him from Miss Chillingham, with the fun still sparkling in her eyes. It was, perhaps, as well for Mr.
"It's probably because you have never learned to be original," she replied. But Hastings had been set to thinking. Mrs. Pomfret, with her foresight and her talent for management, had given the Ladies' Auxiliary notice that they were not to go farther forward than the twelfth row. She herself, with some especially favoured ones, occupied a box, which was the nearest thing to being on the stage.
"Put down the key, then, or you'll knock something else down; and you may open the shutters now; for I'm quite awake." "Dear me! I'm so sorry to think of disturbing you," cried Mrs. Pomfret, at the same time throwing the shutters wide open; "but, to be sure, ma'am, I have something to tell you, which won't let you sleep again in a hurry.
Pomfret," replied Victoria, wavering between amusement and a desire to be serious, "I haven't the slightest intention of making what you call a 'match." And there was in her words a ring of truth not to be mistaken. Mrs. Pomfret kissed her. "One never can tell what may happen," she said. "Think of him, Victoria.
Watts were, by my recommendation, inserted in the late Collection, the readers of which are to impute to me whatever pleasure or weariness they may find in the perusal of Blackmore, Watts, Pomfret, and Yalden. Isaac Watts was born July 17, 1674, at Southampton, where his father, of the same name, kept a boarding-school for young gentlemen, though common report makes him a shoemaker.
"Did you put all that nonsense in the New York Flare?" asked Mr. Crewe. "Oh, Humphrey, I hope you liked it," cried Mrs. Pomfret. "Don't make the mistake of despising what women can do. They elected the Honourable Billy Aylestone he said so himself. I'm getting all the women interested." "Who've you been calling on now?" he inquired. Mrs. Pomfret hesitated.
Whenever he has his friends with him, like this, I come over and help him. It is so difficult for a bachelor to entertain, Mr. Braden." "Well," said Mr. Braden, bending alarmingly near her ear, "there's one way out of it." "What's that?" said Mrs. Pomfret. "Git married," declared Mr. Braden. "How very clever you are, Mr. Braden! I wish poor dear Mr.
Pomfret, who, remarkable as it may seem, not only recognized Austen without her lorgnette, but quite overwhelmed him with an unexpected cordiality, and declared her intention of giving them a dinner in New York. "My dear," she said, after kissing Victoria twice, "he is most distinguished-looking I had no idea and a person who grows upon one.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking