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Updated: June 12, 2025
I raged for what had been mine for some high estate out of which I had fallen into degradation. I clawed the ground in what must have seemed convulsions to the girl. Her poppet cried and she hushed it. "Give me my mother's book!" I strangled out of the depths of my throat; and repeated, as if torn by a devil "Give me my mother's book!"
They outstrip the carriage; but now all alight. "Gentlemen and ladies for the carriages, please take seats at once," sang the guard. "How are you off for room, guard," enquired the Colonel. "Seats in this one for two, sir." "Sir Tilton, might I trouble you to take charge of my step-daughter; I know it will be a bore," she added in an undertone, "but I shall reward you my dear little poppet."
And I don't blame her for it, no, I don't blame her!... Six days ago when I brought her my first earnings in full twenty-three roubles forty copecks altogether she called me her poppet: 'poppet, said she, 'my little poppet. And when we were by ourselves, you understand?
To look at them was to breathe an involuntary prayer for eiderdown enclosures that would keep the poppet inside warm without disparagement to her glorious finery. Sapps Court under their influence became eloquent of quadrilles; "Les Rats" and the Lancers, jangled by four hands eternally on pianos no powers of sleep could outwit, and no execration do justice to.
Abandoning perplexity, he went on and up. "Here you are! Bright and late as usual!" In her fluted voice, with her agreeable smile, Mrs. Austen greeted him. The lady was attired in a manner that left her glitteringly and splendidly bare. With her, in the cluttered drawing-room, were Margaret, Kate Schermerhorn, Poppet Bleecker, Verelst, Cantillon and Ogston. "Will you take my daughter out?" Mrs.
"Mary! Mary Chilton! Maid Mary mine!" called Priscilla Molines in her clear bird-voice, as she ran down the steps leading to the principal cabin. "Come on deck and see the launch of the pinnace! The carpenters call her fit for use if not finished, and the men have gone ashore to launch her. Where art thou, poppet!"
Actuated by the consciousness of this, he had swallowed his anger, and had told the whole truth. Nevertheless things had been said which were horrible to him. This buffoon of a man had called his Isabel a pert poppet! How was he to get over the remembrance of such an offence? And then the wretch had declared that he was enamoured!
I went to De Chaumont's hotel to bring the money from Doctor Chantry and to take leave without appearing to do so. Mademoiselle de Chaumont seized me as I entered. Her carriage stood in the court. Miss Chantry was waiting in it while Annabel's maid fastened her glove. "O Lazarre!" the poppet cried, her heartiness going through me like wine. "Are you back? And how you are changed!
We are acting 'The Lodger with the Trombone' and 'Waiting for Him. . . . The performance is the day after tomorrow. . . ." "Why did you bring them?" asked Zaikin. "I couldn't help it, Poppet; after tea we must rehearse our parts and sing something. . . . I am to sing a duet with Koromyslov. . . . Oh, yes, I was almost forgetting!
"Coming, child, she is coming when she has attended to her mother," responded the lady. "White wine, or red, did you say, Anne, and a little ginger?" "Is she never coming?" was again the call; and Lady Archfield muttering, "Was there ever such an impatient poppet?" released Anne, who was instantly pounced upon by young Mrs. Archfield.
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