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Updated: May 16, 2025
Do not be angry. The horse has four legs and yet he stumbles. Command that he read to the end." "Well, read," said Pougatcheff. "One Persian blanket, one quilt of wadded silk, four roubles; one pelisse of fox-skin, covered with red ratine, forty roubles; one small touloup of hare-skin left with your grace, on the steppe, fifteen roubles." "What?" cried Pougatcheff, with flashing eyes.
I'd get up earlier than this to have breakfast with a little queen." "Ain't you ever goin' to quit jollyin'?" He leaned across the table. "That ain't a bad linen model you're wearin' it's domestic goods, too. Where'd you get it?" "At Lipman's." "I sold them a consignment last year; but, say, if you want to see real classy white goods you ought to see some ratine cutaways I'm bringing over.
Mrs. Schlimberg turned to a second model. "Look at this here ratine cutaway. If the Phoebe Snow ain't the talk of New York before next week, then I don't know my own name. Ain't it so, Miss Sternberger?" Miss Sternberger ran her smooth hand over the lace shoulder of the gown. "This is a great seller," she replied, smiling at Mr. Arnheim.
I've brought a model I'm goin' to call the Phoebe Snow. It's the niftiest thing for early fall you ever saw." "Ratine?" "You never heard of it? That's where I get my work in it's the new lines, the novelty stuff, that gets the money." "Are you goin' in the surf this morning, Mr. Arnheim?" "I'm goin' where you go, little one." He dropped two lumps of sugar into her coffee-cup.
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