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Updated: June 19, 2025
It's the Frogs' Birthday-Treat and we've lost the Baby!" "What Baby?" I said, quite bewildered by this complicated piece of news. "The Queen's Baby, a course!" said Bruno. "Titania's Baby. And we's welly sorry. Sylvie, she's oh so sorry!" "How sorry is she?" I asked, mischievously. "Three-quarters of a yard," Bruno replied with perfect solemnity.
The cause of this unhappy disagreement was Titania's refusing to give Oberon a little changeling boy, whose mother had been Titania's friend: and upon her death the fairy queen stole the child from its nurse, and brought him up in the woods.
"She says Weintraub left a suitcase of books there to be called for. What do you make of that?" "For the love of God, tell her not to touch those books." "Hullo?" said Roger. Aubrey, leaning over him, noticed that the little bookseller's naked pate was ringed with crystal beads. "Hullo?" replied Titania's elfin voice promptly. "Did you open the suitcase?" "No. It's locked. Mr.
It grew very still and a little bit eery as the shadows crept over the scene, and it was a relief when Cas Temple and Bert Alley brought forth their mandolins. I am sorry to say that Titania's Mirror was a bit too thickly inhabited by mosquitoes for comfort, and there were restless turnings and muttered expostulations to be heard for some time after lights were out.
It was a copy of Carlyle's Cromwell. He tried to stammer his thanks, but what he saw or thought he saw in Titania's sparkling face unmanned him. "The same edition!" said Roger. "Now let's see what those mystic page numbers are! Gilbert, have you got your memorandum?" Aubrey took out his notebook. "Here we are," he said. "This is what Weintraub wrote in the back of the cover."
Jackson's books, whose titles escape memory, whereof he has said "They are a dynamite for sorrow." Nothing used to annoy Mifflin more than to have someone come in and ask for copies of these works. But that is apart from the story. To the consideration of what to put on Miss Titania's bookshelf Roger devoted the delighted hours of the morning.
Least in size, but in its capacity for annoyance greatest, perhaps, of all, is the sand fly. Almost microscopic, but with delicate grey wings, of a shape that Titania's self might wear, they slip through the holes of mosquito gauze and torment our feet by night and day. The three-day fever they leave behind is yet as nothing compared to the itching fury that persists for days.
"Did you pull this hair from Titania's mane?" asked Gerfaut, as he drew through his fingers the more glossy than silky lock, which he ridiculed by this ironical supposition.
For an instant there was a breathless tableau. The bearded man still had his hands on Titania's shoulders. She, very pale but with brilliant eyes, gazed at Aubrey in unbelieving amazement. Weintraub stood quite motionless with both hands on the dining table, as though thinking. He felt the cold bruise of metal against the hollow of his cheek.
Well, perhaps the most rational as well as charitable explanation is that her eyes were opened to see him in his true colors, as well as herself. Had Titania's eyes been disenchanted when she was fondling the immortal Weaver, she might have perished with disgust; and it is scarcely strange that Miss Mayhew should be ill on finding that she was infatuated with a man who was both ass and villain.
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