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Updated: May 9, 2025
But this trait can not be said characteristically to distinguish the pecuniarily successful upper-class man from the rank and file of the industrial classes. The training and the selection to which the latter are exposed in modern industrial life give a similarly decisive weight to this trait.
The place referred to was the Perkins Café, a high-class restaurant on Pennsylvania Avenue, heavily patronized by the diplomatic, political, financial, and sporting circles of upper-class Washington. It was famous for its discreet waiters, and for the absolutely private rooms.
But I've had callers all the evening long. Oh, dear! I didn't mean that. I'm truly glad to have you come, and I will keep on working, if you don't mind." The stranger's eyes twinkled. "Which class are you?" she asked. "Sophomore," answered Betty promptly. "And you're an upper-class girl, aren't you?" The stranger shook her head. "No?" questioned Betty in bewilderment.
They've just divided us fourth-class men up among the rest to do chores for them. My boss is Captain Clark, and he's the only upper-class man I can speak to, and he would knock me down if I asked him about it. You'd better try yourself when you come out." "Who am I assigned to?" asked Sam. "To Cadet Smith, and he's a much easier man. You're in luck. But my time's up.
"It's a kind of upper-class farm-house with a lot of low rooms, and intricate passages, and chambers here and there, smelling of apples, and a huge kitchen, and an oven big enough for a small dinner-party." "I should like the oven." "And a laundry, and a dairy, and a cheese-house, only we never make any cheese; and a horse-pond, and a dung-hill, and a cabbage-garden."
It was inexpressibly strange and weird to me, this one-sided recognition, this unfamiliar familiarity: it gave me a queer thrill of the supernatural that I can hardly express to you. But I didn't know what to do, when a kindly-faced, middle-aged English upper-class servant rushed out at me, open-armed, and hugging me hard to her breast, exclaimed with many loud kisses: "Miss Una, Miss Una!
It was crowded with passengers waiting for the little boats to take them ashore; Italians went here and there selling fruit, postcards and jewellery straight from Birmingham; two flat coal lighters were drawing ponderously alongside. She could not see Louis. From end to end she searched the ship, even going on to the upper deck, which to-day was not sacred to the upper-class passengers.
Or, in the petty conventionality of a prosperous middle- or upper-class community you come upon one who dreams perhaps vaguely but still longingly of an existence where love and ideas shall elevate and glorify life.
Meanwhile they gave a ceremonious little dinner, the one and only guest being Andres Garavel, the banker. Of all the charming peoples of Central America there are, perhaps, none more polished and well-bred than the upper-class Panamanians.
They bury the dead that is, all the upper-class dead in nichos, or ovens, such as are found in the old cemeteries of New Orleans. The cemetery, which is usually owned, not by the municipality but by the church, is surrounded by a brick or stone wall six or eight feet high surmounted by a balustrade of red baked clay in an urn design.
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