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Updated: September 23, 2025
I could have hinted at horrors, and they would have gone by rail like lambs, taking you with them." "Lady Turnour can do nothing like a lamb," I contradicted him. "I should never have forgiven you for sending me away from the car. Besides, Lady Turnour wants to teuf-teuf up to the château in her sixty-horse-power Aigle, and make an impression on the aristocracy."
The air smelled of a thousand flowers, this air that Lady Turnour shunned as if it were poison, and brought me a sense of happiness and adventure fresh as the morning. I knew I had no right to the feeling, because this wasn't my adventure.
When lions have to be faced, my theory is that the best thing is to open the cage door and walk in boldly, not crawl in on your knees, saying: "Please don't eat me." I expected Lady Turnour to have a fine appetite for any martyrs lying about loose, but to my surprise a faint "Come in!" answered my dauntless knock, and I beheld her prostrate in bed.
"Isn't it for Lady Turnour to say?" "Sir Samuel told me last night that I shouldn't be wanted till two o'clock, as he was going to see the town with her ladyship. He wanted to know if we could sandwich in something else this afternoon, as he considered a whole day too much for one place.
But tell me this: even if you have no curiosity, because you hope you can manage to endure me, do you think I look like an 'Elise'?" "Somehow, you don't. Names have different colours for me. Elise is bright pink. You ought to be silver, or pale blue." "Elise is my professional name; Lady Turnour is my sponsor. My real name's Lys Lys d'Angely." "Good! Lys is silver." "I wish I could coin it.
"She's the kind that doesn't know a lady or gentleman without a label," my kind friend warned me. "You must be prepared for that." "I'll be prepared for anything," I assured her. But when it came to the test, I wasn't quite. Lady Kilmarny wrote a line to Lady Turnour, and asked if she might bring a maid to be interviewed a young woman whom she could recommend.
But now only fish, and fishermen, and a few artists occupy themselves in that quaint little world which one passes all regardlessly in the flying "Côte d'Azur." As we sailed round the road which rings the sleepy-looking salt lake, Lady Turnour had a window opened on purpose to ask what on earth the Prince of Monaco found to admire in this flat country, where there were no fine buildings?
The chauffeur counted for something, too, I feared. In any case, the rest of the tour was spoiled, and if it hadn't been for the thought that when it was over, Jack and I might meet no more, I should have wished it cut short. Good-byes were perfunctory in the morning, and nobody seemed heartbroken at parting from the Turnour family.
Herbert Stokes. "I've nothing to say that she can't hear," said he, virtuously. "I only wanted to know if you'd like to see the gardens? The marquise sent me to ask. Several people who haven't been here before are goin'. It's a lot warmer this mornin', so you won't freeze." Lady Turnour said that she would go, and ordered me to find her hat and coat.
What else does the old boy say, then?" groaned Lady Turnour, martyrisée. Mr. Bane or Dane didn't dare to glance at me. With perfect gravity he translated the guide's best bits, enlarging upon them here and there in a way which showed that he had independent knowledge of his own. And it was a feather in his cap that his eloquence eventually interested Lady Turnour.
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