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Updated: May 29, 2025
She had on the same little hat in which I had last seen her. She had on no cloak, and her tailor-made street dress was of a dark cloth.
"Welcome to our thriving little hamlet." "Hullo, Baker," said Bob; "what are you doing 'way off here?" "Just drifting down the Grand Canal and listening to the gondoliers; and incidentally, waiting for you. Climb off your horse and come up here and get a tailor-made cigarette." "I'm on my way over to Spruce Top," said Bob, "and I've got to keep moving."
'Quainted wid any of d' royal crowd?" "Slightly," answered Anguish, smiling. He was watching a trim figure in a tailor-made gown as it approached, drawing apart from the throng. It was Mrs. Harry Van Brugh Anguish. "Say, you must cut some ice wid dese people. But dat's jest like an American, dough," the little guard went on.
She had forgotten, in the stunning anguish of the sudden spectacle of that hat and that tailor-made suit, that Paris hats and hundred-and-twenty-dollar suits not infrequently had what the vulgar term a string attached to them. After all, she was independent.
Fawn's my colour." "I must say I love blue. I think I'm almost mad about blue; any shade of blue, I don't care what it is. I know I can't go wrong about a colour. But then there's the style " Flossie's fingers turned over the pages with soft lingering touches, while her face expressed the gravest hesitation. "Keith likes me best in these stiff tailor-made things; but I can't bear them.
Grant them that and we can also concede a tailor-made ego." "I don't mind admitting I'm scared, Doctor," Brent Taber said. "I think it's a time to be scared." "But if a race of people were that advanced, if their intention is hostile, why do they pussyfoot around this way? Why don't they just come down and take us over?" "I've wondered that, too.
Her eyes seemed to dwell upon the little strands of fair hair that escaped from beneath her smart but simple hat, to take in the slightly deprecating lift of the eyebrows, the very attractive, half appealing smile, the smart grey tailor-made gown with the bunch of violets in her waistband.
I must have stayed with him for several days for I recall being hypnotized into ordering a twenty-dollar tailor-made suit from a South Clark street merchant you know the kind. It was a "Prince Albert Soot" my first made-to-order outfit, but the extravagance seemed justified in face of the known elegance of man's apparel in Boston.
"It doesn't matter, that will do.... I can't afford to waste time.... Come, Merat, try to get on with my hair." And while Merat buttoned her boots, she buttoned her gloves. She wore a grey, tailor-made dress and a blue veil tied round a black hat with ostrich feathers. Escaping from her maid's hands, she ran downstairs. But the dining-room door opened, and Lady Duckle intervened.
That was a nice dress the girl had worn on the fourth day out. Tailor-made. He liked tailor-mades. He liked all her dresses. He liked her. Had she liked him? So hard to tell if you don't get a chance of speaking! She was dark. Arthur liked blondes, Arthur was a fool! Good old Arthur! Glad he had made a success! Now, he could marry if he liked!
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