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Updated: September 12, 2025
COLONEL MORLEY. "Frankly, then. I think Guy Darrell, like many other men, has been so long in making up his mind to marry again that he has lost the right moment, and will never find it." Lady Selina smells at her vinaigrette, and replies in her softest, affectedest, civilest, and crushingest manner: "POOR DEAR OLD MAN!"
She had taken up the vinaigrette, and was thinking with acute pleasure that Mr. Carleton's manner last night and to-night had returned to all the familiar kindness of old times. Not as it had been during the rest of her stay in the city. She could be quite contented now to have him go back to England, with this pleasant remembrance left her.
Geoffrey Strong felt a sort of ownership in this chair, for he had discovered the secret pocket in one arm; the tiny panel which, when pressed one day by his careless fingers, slipped aside, revealing a dark polished well, and in the well an ancient vinaigrette of green and gold glass.
Then the woman stood motionless, holding a vinaigrette in her free hand, and looking at the pale face on the pillow, at the pathetic blue eyes which sought her own from time to time as if in want of pity. Something made Parker's heart beat fast and the hot tears came into her hard, dark eyes.
I will inform him tomorrow that you called on me this afternoon and stole my watch and" I glanced about the room "my silver matchbox." "I'd rather have that little vinaigrette." "You don't get either. I merely say you stole it. What will happen?" "Mortimer will hit you with a cleek." "Not at all. I am an old man. My white hairs protect me.
Then I dropped the vinaigrette in the slop-jar and jumped down from the wash-stand. Her high, old-fashioned bureau tempted me next. There were rows and rows of pins in a big blue pincushion, put in as evenly as if it had been done by a machine. I pulled them out, one by one, and dropped them down behind the bureau.
She put on a soft and languid manner: she shed tears and tried to say coaxing things, which were very coldly received; for there was a hard and evil look in her fine dark eyes that went far to neutralize the effect of her câlineries. Once, indeed, when Alan had gone into an adjoining room to fetch a vinaigrette, her true feeling found its vent in a few expressive words.
She said the vinaigrette was too precious to part with as long as she lives, because her oldest brother gave it to her on her twelfth birthday, when she was exactly as old as I am. Isn't Désiré a pretty name?" "Mademoiselle," called Monsieur Ciseaux from the next room, "mademoiselle, will you come will you tell me what name was that? Désiré, did you say?"
'Indeed, dear, I never use it; you must take it, Miss Assher persisted, holding it close to Tina's hand. Tina coloured deeply, pushed the vinaigrette away with some impatience, and said, 'Thank you, I never use those things. I don't like vinaigrettes.
She sat turning over the vinaigrette, which to her fancy was covered with hieroglyphics that no one else could read; of her uncle's affair, of Charlton's danger, of her own distress, and the kindness which had wrought its relief, more penetrating and pleasant than even the fine aromatic scent which fairly typified it, Constance's voice broke in upon her musings.
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