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Updated: May 13, 2025
Madame is ready, her coiffure suits her, she smiles at herself in the glass as she slips the glove-stretchers into the twelve-button gloves. Monsieur has made a failure of his necktie and broken off three buttons. Traces of decided ill-humor are stamped on his features. Monsieur Come, let us go down, the carriage is waiting; it is a quarter past eleven.
Madame is ready, her coiffure suits her, she smiles at herself in the glass as she slips the glove-stretchers into the twelve-button gloves. Monsieur has made a failure of his necktie and broken off three buttons. Traces of decided ill-humor are stamped on his features. Monsieur Come, let us go down, the carriage is waiting; it is a quarter past eleven.
A person of refinement and sensibility and intelligence, cast into the company of the select, the country-house, the radiant, twelve-button society, has been struck with infinite pity for it, and asks the Drawer to do something about it. The Drawer cannot do anything about it. It can only ask the prayers of all good people on Christmas Day for the rich.
Madame is ready, her coiffure suits her, she smiles at herself in the glass as she slips the glove-stretchers into the twelve-button gloves. Monsieur has made a failure of his necktie and broken off three buttons. Traces of decided ill-humor are stamped on his features. Monsieur Come, let us go down, the carriage is waiting; it is a quarter past eleven.
When he had proceeded about twenty steps, he paused, and, turning towards Antoinette, who was engaged in readjusting her hood and rebuttoning her twelve-button gloves, he said: "I have drawn an odd number in the great lottery of this world. In our day there are no romantic girls; the last remaining one is mine."
A person of refinement and sensibility and intelligence, cast into the company of the select, the country-house, the radiant, twelve-button society, has been struck with infinite pity for it, and asks the Drawer to do something about it. The Drawer cannot do anything about it. It can only ask the prayers of all good people on Christmas Day for the rich.
A person of refinement and sensibility and intelligence, cast into the company of the select, the country-house, the radiant, twelve-button society, has been struck with infinite pity for it, and asks the Drawer to do something about it. The Drawer cannot do anything about it. It can only ask the prayers of all good people on Christmas Day for the rich.
Hannah turned over everything even the little curling iron, and the cardboard box full of tags and rags of ribbon and chiffon and lace and crushed artificial flowers, and the fans with broken sticks and the stays with broken ribs, and the petticoats with dingy frills and the twelve-button ball gloves with dirty fingers, and the soiled pink wraps.
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