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Updated: May 12, 2025
He hesitated for a moment, and then decided that this was a conversation he ought to control. He found Lady Sunderbund looking very tall and radiantly beautiful in a sheathlike dress of bright crimson trimmed with snow-white fur and a white fur toque. She held out a long white-gloved hand to him and cried in a tone of comradeship and profound understanding: "I've come, Bishop!"
They swept over him apparently unseeing, but as the two circled swiftly by, the hand resting lightly on the Major's shoulder was uplifted suddenly in a peculiar, suggestive movement. He stared after them until they were lost in the crowd, feeling confident that the motion of those white-gloved fingers was meant as a signal of warning. To whom was it conveyed?
"You have come!" she said. Linforth took her little white-gloved hand in his. "You knew I should," he answered. "Yes, I knew that. But I didn't know that I should have to wait," she replied reproachfully. "I was here, in this corner, at the moment." "I couldn't catch an earlier train. I only got your telegram saying you would be at the dance late in the afternoon."
And Naïda had taken her white-gloved hand shyly, whispering constrained formalities, then had disappeared into the unreality of it all. Duane, her old playmate, may have been there, but she could not remember having seen him.
Dusk slowly gathered about them; and the white-gloved butler set the little tables, and brought in broiled chicken and grilled salmon and salad and hot rolls and peaches, and they were all very hungry. And Clover did not cry, but fell to work on her supper with an excellent appetite, quite unconscious that they were speeding through another wonderful gorge without seeing one of its beauties.
A high wind was blowing, bringing with it the booming of the guns along the front. A sun half-veiled in sand-dust shone on pale meadows, sandy flats, grey wind-mills. The scene was deserted, except for the handful of troops deploying before the officers on the edge of the field. Admiral Ronarc'h, white-gloved and in full-dress uniform, stood a little in advance, a young naval officer at his side.
When Laura and the Senator arrived, about half past nine or ten in the evening, the place was already pretty well crowded, and the white-gloved negro servant at the door was still receiving streams of guests. The drawing-rooms were brilliant with gaslight, and as hot as ovens.
"Besides," continued Doctor Queed, "what reason have I for thinking that he expects or desires me to track him down? For all that he says here, that may be the last thing in the world he wishes." Sharlee, turning toward him, her chin in her white-gloved hand, looked at him earnestly. "Do you care to have me discuss it with you?" "Oh, yes, I have invited an expression of opinion from you."
The soldier tapped at the panel, and at the prompt "Come in" pushed it partly open and stood with one white-gloved hand resting on the knob, the other raised to his cap-visor in salute. "Lieutenant Blake?" he asked, as he glanced around. "What is it?" asked Blake, stepping quickly from the window.
Sadie Corn had her key ready for her. Two-eighteen took it daintily between white-gloved fingers. "I'll want a maid in fifteen minutes," she said. "Tell them to send me the one I had yesterday. The pretty one. She isn't so clumsy as some." Sadie Corn jotted down a note without looking up. "Oh, Julia? Sorry Julia's busy," she lied.
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