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His allusion to this meal gave her, in the shaded sprinkled coolness, the scene, as she vaguely felt, of a sort of ordered mirrored licence, the haunt of those the irregular, like herself who went to bed or who rose too late, something to think over while she watched the white-aproned waiter perform as nimbly with plates and saucers as a certain conjurer her friend had in London taken her to a music-hall to see.
He went to seek Le Chapelier, who had been one of the founders of the club, a man of great prominence now, president of the Assembly in this important season when it was deliberating upon the Declaration of the Rights of Man. Le Chapelier's importance was reflected in the sudden servility of the shirt-sleeved, white-aproned waiter of whom Andre-Louis inquired for the representative.
In the kitchen, a long room with red-tiled floor and latticed windows, a woman, white-aproned and frail-faced, was bustling about her morning business. To her skirts clung a sturdy, bare-legged boy; while at the oak table in the centre of the room a girl with brown eyes and straggling hair was seated before a basin of bread and milk.
In vain he groped to reconstruct the process by which that other spirit which he would fain have believed his true spirit had been drugged and deadened in its very flight. He was aware, as he still stood uncertainly beside the table, of the white-aproned waiter looking at him, and of some one else! the woman whose eyes had been fastened on him so persistently.
George Eliot, in her poem, "The Stradivari," probably pictures his life accurately: "That plain white-aproned man, who stood at work, Patient and accurate full fourscore years, Cherished his sight and touch by temperance; And since keen sense is love of perfectness, Made perfect violins, the needed paths For inspiration and high mastery."
She went straight to the King's kitchen, where the white-aproned cooks were running about in great confusion. The Princess went up to the head cook, and said, 'Dear cook, please listen to my request, and let me make a wedding-cake for Prince Milan.
"I refuse to answer, by advice of counsel," said John Wesley. "I'll say this much, though. X marks no spot where any Annie Laurie gave me her promise true." When the train had gone John Wesley wandered disconsolately back to his hotel and rested his elbows on the bar. The white-aproned attendant hastened to serve him. "What will it be, sir?" "Give me a gin pitfall," said John Wesley. "Cold feet?"
White-aproned girls, among whom he recognised Jessie's trim figure, were flitting about them, setting cups and saucers with a musical clatter. Away in the background, a blue column of smoke rose straight into the treetops from the old stove where Mrs.
Then mother will punish you," said the shrill little voice. Anne stood up and looked all about. At last she discovered the speaker. He was a small boy who had climbed a low-branching apple-tree on the other side of the hedge. A smaller boy was walking beside a white-capped, white-aproned nurse at a little distance.
He lay for a few seconds where he had dropped; then, with a great effort to get his breath, he rose and went quickly up the laurelled walks towards the house. A moment more and he was abreast of the kitchen and its open door, and in the presence of print-gowned, white-aproned women who first exclaimed and then stared at the sudden sight of him. "Mrs.
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