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Updated: May 14, 2025
Miss Lavish did not seem pleased at this. "Miss Honeychurch listening!" she said rather crossly. "Pouf! Wouf! You naughty girl! Go away!" "Oh, Lucy, you ought to be with Mr. Eager, I'm sure." "I can't find them now, and I don't want to either." "Mr. Eager will be offended. It is your party." "Please, I'd rather stop here with you." "No, I agree," said Miss Lavish.
It's a woman with shaggy hair, and sometimes her eyes turn green." "Pouf!" scoffed Everett. "My father says there aren't any such things as ghosts. I wouldn't be a fraidy cat, Ann." "I'm not a fraidy cat," pouted the girl. "I always go upstairs alone, don't I, Horace?" Another answer in the affirmative, and Horace proceeded to roll the train back over the carpet.
How many well-descended county families, cursed with an heir who is called a clever man of business, have vanished from the soil! A company starts, the clever man joins it one bright day. Pouf! the old estates and the old name are powder. Ascend higher.
The skipper shrugged his shoulders. "And they have treated you but you know how they have treated you," Colonel John went on, appealing to the lower motive. The group of seamen who stood about the door growled seamen's oaths. "There are things that seem hard," the Colonel continued, "and being begun, pouf! they are done while you think of them!"
"It is I, ma cherie, it is Gaspard, my love, open the door," came in a booming half-whisper from without. "Alice, Jean, it is your Papa Roussillon, my dears. Let me in." Alice was at the door in a minute, unbarring it. M. Roussillon entered, armed to the teeth, the water dribbling from his buckskin clothes. "Pouf!" he exclaimed, "my throat is like dust."
But the fresh water, and the little canoes, egg-shells, fairy bubbles; a big breath, a sigh, a heart-pulse too much, and pouf! over you go; not so, that I do not know." Baron Courbertin smiled self-commiseratingly and went on. "But it is delightful, magnificent. I have watched and envied. Some day I shall learn." "It is not so difficult," St. Vincent interposed. "Is it, Miss Welse?
How many well-descended county families, cursed with an heir who is called a clever man of business, have vanished from the soil! A company starts, the clever man joins it one bright day. Pouf! the old estates and the old name are powder. Ascend higher.
"Perhaps his inventions," I suggested. "Pouf! His inventions! You know better than that, Ivan Andreievitch. No, no. It is something.... He's not himself. Well, then, secondly, there's Nina. The other night did you notice anything?" "Only that she lost her temper. But she's always doing that." "No, it's more than that. She's unhappy, and I don't like the life she's leading.
Pif! paf! pouf! that is the way I read. And now that I can read no more, I have but one pleasure, to tell of my battles. Is not that better than your 'Thousand and One Nights, youngster?" "You have, indeed, much to tell, old Nonesuch," replied the youngster guardedly, "and you have, indeed, seen much." "Ah, have I not, though!" old Nonesuch responded.
Once you're married, everything nice is wrong!" "Evangeline! I won't let you go out of my life you strange little witch! You have upset me, disturbed me I can settle to nothing. I seem to want you so very much." "Pouf!" I said, and I pouted at him. "You have everything in your life to fill it position, riches, friends. You don't want a green-eyed adventuress."
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