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Updated: May 8, 2025
She turned confidentially to Paul, saying: "He couldn't BEAR 'em, them pyjama things." The young man sat making rings of smoke. "Well, it's everyone to his taste," he laughed. Then followed a little discussion of the merits of pyjamas. "My mother loves me in them," he said. "She says I'm a pierrot." "I can imagine they'd suit you," said Mrs. Radford.
Yet those voices, and the hands that shifted him tenderly, and the pyjama coat that was slipped on him at last, were not the stuff of dreams. No, the lights of the Arrow, the smash of the collision, the tumbling seas which had flung him against the rocks, the dead weight of Steve's body in his bleeding arms, were not illusions. He opened his eyes when they turned him on his back.
And Jill in the softest pink raiment sat like the perfect heart of a perfect rose in the scented coolness of the pink chamber, and passed the days designing garments of which it is useless to give a description, seeing that the womenfolk in Northern climes have only two notes on which to ring the changes of their wardrobe; the long, shroud-looking thing in silk or crepe de Chine or good honest nainsook, picked out in different coloured ribbons, or the romance killing, stove-pipe giving effect of the masculine pyjama.
Robert nearly fell off the steps in his surprise. "Please," he said, "I want the Slowcoach." For answer the door opened, and a big head and beard and a pyjama arm were pushed out. "Slowcoach?" the head said. "What Slowcoach? There's no Slowcoach here." "The Slowcoach is the name of our caravan," said Robert. "Oh, it is?" said the head. "Then it's over there. I saw it as I came in.
Then he sat down by my bed and, taking my wrist in one hand, pushed up the sleeve of my pyjama jacket and felt my smooth, firm forearm. "Good enough," he said, and proceeded to open the jacket down the front, and feel my chest and waist, thumping me in both of them, and expecting me to gurgle thereat like a sixpenny toy. "You're all right," he decided, "except that you're an ass.
The first man who comes along helps himself just because you 've two of a thing, so you 're not a bit better off than you were before, are you? The young man turned his blue eyes with their long lashes on Miss Abingdon with a look of mute inquiry, and threw one arm in its striped pyjama suit up on the pillow.
He stepped outside, and met the mother of Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius James at the head of her flock. "Here we are," she exclaimed, laughing. "But, oh, Mr. Hornby, our pyjamas are so huge!" "So are ours," said the First Lieutenant, and stooped to gather into his arms a pathetic object whose pyjama coat of many colours almost trailed along the deck.
One heard of monkey dinners and pyjama dinners at Newport, of horseback dinners and vegetable dances in New York.
He lay the book flat on his chest as the soft click of the opening door announced the coming of his retainer. The impassive Ling Chu came noiselessly into the room, carrying a tray, which he placed upon a low table by the side of his master's bed. The Chinaman wore a blue silk pyjama suit a fact which Tarling noticed. "You are not going out to-night then, Ling Chu?" "No, Lieh Jen," said the man.
I presented the buck with an old pyjama jacket, and a great swell he thought himself too, strutting about and showing himself off to the others. In exchange for numerous articles they gave us, we attached coins round their necks, and on a small round plate, which I cut out of a meat-tin, I stamped my initial and the date, C. 1896.
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