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Updated: June 15, 2025
"M. Gurn is a kind of commercial traveller and is often away, sometimes for a month or six weeks together," and the gossiping woman was beginning a long and incoherent story when the stranger interrupted her, pointing to a silver-framed photograph of a young woman he had noticed on the mantelpiece. "Is that Mme. Gurn?" "M. Gurn is a bachelor," Mme. Doulenques replied.
He was a conservative Republican and a Congregationalist, and on his desk he kept three silver-framed photographs one of his wife and two children, one of his dog Rover, and one of his architectural masterpiece, the mansion of Peter B. Reardon, the copper king of Montana. Mr.
"You good old thing," she said. "You looked pretty to-night." "That's nice!" Laura laughed, as she dropped the buttons into a little drawer of her bureau. It was an ugly, cheap, old bureau, its veneer loosened and peeling, the mirror small and flawed a piece of furniture in keeping with the room, which was small, plain and hot, its only ornamental adjunct being a silver-framed photograph of Mrs.
These swell scientific men were often a little bit slow in the uptake.... But to-day to-day their dupe saw clearly. He recalled the Pont Street incident, and the flushed faces of the couple. He saw once more the silver-framed photograph in the girl's hand, he felt the mute disparagement of her glance, and was conscious of the relief with which it left him to settle on the portrait again.
He noticed the silver and ivory on the dressing-table; the large silver-framed photographs an autographed one of the Queen of Wartenburg Molly Gaverick and Rosamond Tallant in Court veil and feathers, Joan Gildea at her type-writer the confusion of books, the embroidered coverlet on the large bed, the bush-made couch at its foot upholstered in rose-patterned chintz on which she had seated herself.
"Why, what's the trouble, brother?" he enquired. "Thievin' robbery, that's what!" cried the little man, capering higher than ever. "Stole me silver-framed mirror, 'e 'as, the young wagabone a genuine hantique worth its weight in hemeralds stole me mirror and don't deny it, neither !" "Who says he stole it?" demanded Jessamy. "Did any o' ye see him commit the fact?"
Banneker took the silver-framed portrait and placed it in the flaccid hand. The fingers closed over it. The filmiest wraith of a smile played about the blue lips. An hour later, Io came out to Banneker waiting fearfully in the big room. "She won't have a doctor. I've given her the strychnia and she insists she'll be all right." "Don't you think I ought to go for the doctor, anyway?"
So now, while they are fresh, I will just make a note of them, if only as a change of thought after the endless figures. There's an old silver-framed mirror in my room. It was given me by a friend who had a taste for antiquities, and he, as I happen to know, picked it up at a sale and had no notion where it came from.
And she hated the log room, its simplicity now all littered with incongruous luxuries; ivory toilet articles on the board table; lacy, beribboned underwear thrown over the rustic chair; silver-framed photographs; an exquisite, gold-mounted crystal vase full of wild flowers on the pine shelf; satin bedroom slippers on the clay hearth; a gorgeous, fur-trimmed dressing-gown over the foot of her narrow, iron cot; all the ridiculous necessities that Betty's maid had put into her trunk.
She looked at herself in the silver-framed mirror and laughed. "And you always thought yourself a proud woman!" Suddenly she dropped the brush; it rattled and spun on the polished floor. She stamped her foot. "That settles it!" she said.
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