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Updated: May 28, 2025
His hands plunged and rummaged in his trunk while he called for a clean handkerchief. God, we'll simply have to dress the character. I want puce gloves and green boots. Contradiction. Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. Mercurial Malachi. A limp black missile flew out of his talking hands. And there's your Latin quarter hat, he said. Stephen picked it up and put it on.
It expressed its kind tremors in the fashion which belonged to the puce silk dress and fine bits of collar and undersleeve the belated gracefulness of which caused her to present herself to him rather as a figure cut neatly from a book of the styles he had admired in his young manhood.
Those were awful times when she went, say, to Melbourne, and bought as a bargain a whole roll of cloth of an impossible colour, which had to be utilised to the last inch; or when she unearthed, from an old trunk, some antiquated garment to be cut up and reshaped a Paisley shawl, a puce ball-dress, even an old pair of green rep curtains.
And let me tell you, Bridget-Mary, you have always been my favourite niece. 'For all the world, you said with your own lips, 'I would not be a nun! Three millions will buy, if not the world, at least a good slice of it.... Figuratively, I offer them to you in this outstretched hand!" The Dowager extended a puce kid glove. "The husband who goes with them is a good creature.
"There's only ourselves in the house," he replied. A person less experienced than Dr. Cashmore in the secret strangenesses of genteel life in London might have been astonished by this information. But Dr. Cashmore no more blenched now than he had blenched at the puce garment. "Well, hurry up and get some hot water," said he, in a tone dictatorial and savage. "Quick, now! And brandy!
Sutcliffe had given her; a light blue row for the Thomas Hardys; a dark blue for the George Merediths; royal blue and gold for the Rudyard Kiplings. And in the narrow upright bookcase in the arm of the T facing her writing-table, Mark's books: the Homers and the Greek dramatists. Their backs had faded from puce colour to drab. Mark's books.
They went into the dining room, where an old lady was already seated at table. She had not taken her hat off, and she wore a dark dress of an indecisive color midway between puce and goose dripping. Nana did not seem surprised at sight of her. She simply asked her why she hadn't come into the bedroom. "I heard voices," replied the old lady. "I thought you had company."
Jacobs caressed the stuff between her thumb and forefinger. "Aw-aw-aw-aw-aw-awl silk," she announced with a long ecstatic quaver. Mrs. Isaacs stood paralyzed by the brilliancy of the repartee. Mrs. Jacobs withdrew the moiré antique and exhibited a mauve gown. "Aw-aw-aw-aw-aw-awl silk." The mauve fluttered for a triumphant instant, the next a puce and amber dress floated on the breeze.
From the green slopes of the hills, set up at a slant, as if the central line of pressure on the dome top had weighed on the inside plates, protruded soft slabs of argillaceous sandstone, whose laminae presented a beef-sandwich appearance, puce or purple alternating with creamy-white.
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