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She was an attractive figure standing there in her plain serge suit, and soft tam-o'-shanter on her finely poised head, and even at a distance one would be correct in describing Romaine Lindsley as an attractive, fine-looking young girl. Around her were the other members of the hiking party, all of whom had come to an abrupt halt, at the call of Grace and Madaline from the woodlands.
She thought of going to beseech Serge and ask him what sum he would take in exchange for Micheline's liberty; but the haughty and sarcastic face of the Prince forcibly putting the bank-notes in her hands, passed before her, and she guessed that she would not obtain anything. Cast down and despairing, she entered her office and set to work.
But we'll look for it together, Serge, won't we? and live there. 'No, no, be quiet, stammered the young man. 'I don't understand what you are saying. You're killing me. For a moment she let him sob in her arms. It troubled and grieved her that she could find no words to soothe him. 'Isn't the Paradou as beautiful, then, as you fancied it? she asked at last.
"The knowledge of inevitable and pressing danger which threatens Serge." "A danger! Of what kind?" "Compromised by Herzog, he is at the mercy of my husband, who has sworn to ruin him." "Your husband!" "Yes, he is his rival. If you could ruin me, would you not do it?" said Jeanne. "You!" retorted Micheline, passionately. "Do you think I am going to worry about you? Serge is my first thought.
She wore a sailor suit of navy blue serge, trimmed with white braid, and was as coy and cunning as ever, not speaking often to strangers, but laughing and running away to her mother when addressed.
And yet he had never been more stirred, more conscious of the mad, mixed poetry of life, than he was, as he stood watching the slender figure on the waggon the gestures of the upraised arm, and the play of the lights from the hotel, and from the side lamps, now on the deep white collar that lightened her serge jacket, and on the gesticulating hand, or the face that even in these disfiguring cross-lights could be nothing else than lovely.
When she had combed her hair and washed her face and hands she went into her closet and came out with the detested boys' suit of faded blue serge. Her red lips were pressed into a firm line as she put it on. "My soul an' body!" exclaimed astonished Aunt Kate when she came in with the coffeepot and saw a boyish little figure in the doorway. Mary Rose ran to her.
"Keep behind me," said she to Serge; "he loves me and will not dare to strike!" Cayrol had stopped. At these words he uttered a loud cry: "wretched woman! You first, then!" Raising his weapon, he was about to strike, when his eyes met Jeanne's. The young woman was smiling, happy to die for her lover. Her pale face beamed from out her black hair with weird beauty. Cayrol trembled.
Naturally enough Marcus took his stand close by Serge, who seemed to have quite recovered from the injuries which he had received, and stood up bronzed and sturdy, with his face lit up with the expectancy of one whose training taught him to foresee a triumph for the Roman arms. "Are we all ready, Serge?" said Marcus, in a low voice. "Yes, boy. Isn't it grand! Take the lesson to heart.
And this, of course, was the moment to introduce quite simply, the subject of the Genuine Mouldform Garments like the pixtures in the magazines, $15, rejuiced from as high as $28.50, and would look, oh, so fine and stylish long after the Prince serge had worn slick and faded.... "But I thought you spoke of the Prince as something especially fine," said Mr.
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