Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 23, 2025
At dinner, sprightly and mischievous Miss Forbes, who recalled their former meeting at Sherry's, found him wholly delightful and frankly told him so. He talked little with Io; but he was conscious to his nerve-ends of the sweet warmth of her so near him. To her questions about his developing career he returned vague replies or generalizations.
Unless my father was still alive, and I could know he wanted to see me before he died, I should never go home not after fifteen years of South Sea life. Why should I not accept what Fate meant for me, and my own inclinations told me that I was destined for? I was intended to be "Jim Sherry, the trader," and I should ask "Niâbon, of Danger Island," to be "Jim Sherry's" wife. Why not.
Margaret in mauve velvet and violets, and Gertrude in a frock of smart black and white were in the act of meeting by appointment at Sherry's one December afternoon, with a comfortable cup of tea in mind. Gertrude emerged from the recess of the revolving door and Margaret, sitting eagerly by the entrance, almost upset the attendant in her rush to her friend's side. "Oh!
To-morrow, I'll take you out and buy you the best dinner you've ever had, out of my own money. We'll go to Sherry's, and you shall start at the top of the menu, and go straight down it till you've had enough." "That will make up for everything. And, now, don't you think you ought to be going to bed? You'll be losing all that color you got on the ship." "Soon not just yet.
"You do not remember me," she said. "I am Phineas Duge's niece." "I remember you now quite well," he answered. "You were having dinner with your uncle one night at Sherry's." She nodded. "That is quite true," she said. "I have been looking for you for some days. In fact, I came to London to look for you."
As a peculiar—and not especially commendable—example of her present state of unselfishness, she stopped for luncheon with her pretty little sister- in-law, and either forgot or calmly ignored the fact that she had promised Percy Wintermill and his sister to lunch with them at Sherry's.
"I'll bet Jackson wins," came from Lew Flapp, who was in the crowd on the beach. Jackson, it will be remembered, was one of his particular cronies. "Jackson can't swim against Dick Rover," came from Songbird Powell, who had hardly spoken to Flapp since the row at Mike Sherry's resort. "I'll bet you a dollar he beats Rover," replied the tall boy, in a low tone. "I don't bet, Flapp."
Sensations of his long and restless career in New York flashed through his mind as he impaled Hannah's sausages in the curious parlour the hysteric industry of his girl-typist, the continuous hot-water service in the bedroom of his glittering apartment at the Concord House, youthful nights at Coster and Bial's music-hall, an insanely extravagant dinner at Sherry's on his thirtieth birthday, a difficulty once with an emissary of Pinkerton, the incredible plague of flies in summer.
High above, the crystal stream bursts forth from the red cliff and falls in a sparkling cascade seventy feet, to strike against a big rock upholstered in softest green. Here it forms a morning-glory pool of almost icy coolness. Hot coffee and bacon with some of White Mountain's famous biscuits baked in a reflector tasted like a feed at Sherry's.
Sherry's filled a corner with its massive stone bulk and glimpses of dining-rooms with glittering chandeliers and solemn gaiety, then impressive clubs and wide entrances under heavy glass and metal, tall porters in splendid livery, succeeded each other to the Hotel Gontram and the dull thunder of the elevated trains beyond.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking