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Immediately Eden's fancy evoked the confidential clerk of the London stage, a withered bookkeeper, shiny of garment, awkward of manner, round of shoulder, square of nail, explosive with figures, and covered with warts, and on the evening in which the secretary was to make his initial appearance she weaponed herself with a vinaigrette. But of the vinaigrette she had no need whatever.
The vinaigrette dropped from Fleda's fingers, but beyond a heightened colour and a little tremulous gravity about the lip, she gave no other sign of emotion. "Mamma," said Florence laughing, "you are too bad!" "Mamma," said Constance, "I wonder how any tender sentiment for you can continue to exist in Fleda's breast!
The look of astonishment, perhaps of horror, which I had seen on her face when her father first began to read had now faded into something akin to wickedness. Did she wink? I can't say, never before having had a young woman wink at me. But the next moment her vinaigrette was rolling down the bank towards the brook, and I was after it. I heard her close behind me.
"I don't see any, my child," said Mrs. Farrington, smiling. "Where's father?" asked Elise. "He's out," said her mother; "we're waiting for dinner until he comes." Just then a ring was heard at the front door-bell. "There's your father now," said Mrs. Farrington abruptly; "Patty, my dear, won't you run up to my bedroom and get me my vinaigrette?" "Why, you have it on, Mrs.
The flacon of some defunct prude is placed side by side with the vinaigrette of some jolie danseuse who was any thing but prudish. How shocked would the original owner of the flacon feel at the friction!
She had let me play with it when I was a child; and when I was a boy, subject to headache from staying too long in the hot sunshine in the cricket-field, she used to lend me her vinaigrette for a cure. But I knew that I had asked you to have it, and that you had done me the favour to accept it. The fascinating puzzle was, how had it come back to me? At last I questioned Barbara Franklin.
She will toss her head, or gently shrug her white shoulders; she will gild an insignificant speech with a charming pout and smile; or throw a Voltairean epigram into an 'Indeed! an 'Ah! a 'What then! A jerk of her head will be her most pertinent form of questioning; she will give meaning to the movement by which she twirls a vinaigrette hanging to her finger by a ring.
After taking up the vinaigrette, which had fallen from her hand, and holding the bottle a short time to her face, the lady began to revive. During all this time, the veil had still partly covered the face of the fair one, so that Jerome had scarcely seen it. When she had so far recovered as to be able to look around her, she raised herself slightly, and again screamed and swooned.
Go on believing what she says; it's the best way when all's over and done with. You can never know as I do. She laughed again, a little spurt of joyless merriment. Upon that, in the same moment, followed a loud hysterical cry; then sobs and wailing, with movements as if to tear open the clothing that choked her. Sibyl hastened away, and returned with her vinaigrette, which she handed to Rolfe.
And she applied a vinaigrette delicately to her nostrils. Tremayne smiled, and sauntered to the window. And then at last came Mullins. "Has any one left the house within the last ten minutes, Mullins?" asked Sir Terence. Mullins looked ill at ease. "Sure, sir, you'll not be after " "Will you answer my question, man?" roared Sir Terence. "Sure, then, there's nobody left the house at all but Mr.
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