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Updated: June 17, 2025
"It is only on Violet's account," repeated Mrs. Scobel. "Mrs. Tempest will be thinking of nothing but her dress; there will be nobody interested in that poor girl." Urged thus, on purely benevolent grounds, Mr. Scobel could not withhold his consent; more especially as he had acquired the habit of letting his wife do what she liked on most occasions a marital custom not easily broken through.
'I do not care, she said. 'You are so simple, Violet, you fancy all courtships must be like your own. One can't spend six years like six weeks. The colour rushed painfully into Violet's face, and she quitted the room.
It was Violet's presence that had made it possible for her to go in and out with Ranny in his house. She stooped for a final, reassuring look at Baby. "Can you manage with him?" she whispered. He nodded. "I've made him his food in that saucepan. You'll have to heat it on the gas ring in there." "In there" was Violet's room. They went downstairs together.
Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth By the winds that tell of the violet's birth." The young lady, attired in white and hung with garlands, looked not unlike the engraving of "Spring" in the illustrated editions of the poems of the gentle Felicia. For a moment Anne, who had long outgrown Mrs.
We start in our childhood with prejudices on these subjects what is education but the systematic imparting of prejudice? and we rarely recover. Even the primitive rhymes of childhood fix ideas unalterably in our minds: The rose is red, the violet's blue, Sugar is sweet and so are you.
"The world is full of changes," he said, "and no man knows what may happen. We may never meet again, Fyffe, and I have a solemn charge to leave you. If I am caught again they will make short work of me. I do not mean to be caught if I can help it, but I know the risk I run. If anything should happen to me, I counsel you, for Violet's sake, to retire from The Cause.
"I remember now." "I thought you would." "Still " Musard broke off abruptly, and walked away from the window. Near the window stood the dressing-table. The swing oval mirror reflected its contents ivory brushes, silver hand mirrors, all the costly bijoutry of a refined woman's toilet. Among them stood Violet's silver jewel-case. Musard strode over and examined the case. It was locked.
"Our last stake," he remarked coolly. The preceding number had been twenty-six. He placed the maximum on twenty-nine, the carrés, chevaux, the column, colour and last dozen. He felt Violet's fingers clutching his arm. There was a little buzz of excitement all round the table as the croupier announced the number. "Vingt-neuf noir, impair et passe!..."
"'Spect you hab to wait till de comp'ny am gone," returned Agnes, picking up her empty clothes-basket and leaving the room. Gracie wandered disconsolately about the rooms, wishing that the callers would go and mamma come up. Presently she paused before the bureau in Violet's dressing-room, and began fingering the pretty things on it.
"Especially with prices going up." Billie groaned. "I think I'll have to try Violet's trick," she said. "If anybody mentions the high cost of living to me while we're away on this vacation, I'll get out and walk home. I don't care if it's a hundred miles." "Going up?" laughed Laura, but they promised just the same.
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