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Updated: July 5, 2025
Let him say bravely in the beginning, 'I will not talk about Myself for more than thirty minutes by my wrist-watch'; then reduce it to twenty-five; then to twenty and so on to the irreducible minimum; and he will be surprised to feel how his popularity increases with leaps and bounds at each reduction provided, of course, that he finds anything else to talk about.
"Not a bit of it, Cloudy!" said Leslie, giving a spring and perching herself on the drain-board of the sink, where she sat swinging her dainty little pumps as nonchalantly as if she were sitting on a velvet sofa. "See! Here's my plan. I woke up early, and thought it all out. Let's see," consulting her wee wrist-watch, "it's nine o'clock. That isn't bad.
Now that Jarvis and I are engaged, he's awfully particular about the company I keep, but he likes you. How different they act when they're in earnest! He even wants me to quit work now, but I like the excitement it's better than waiting." She glanced at her wrist-watch and drew herself together. "Our time is up, dear; we must get back to the show-shop."
Fleur smiled. "Don't!" cried the irrepressible Mont. "I know you're going to say: 'Out, damned hair!" Fleur whisked round, threw him a wave of her hand. "Good-bye, Mr. M.M.!" she called, and was gone among the rose-trees. She looked at her wrist-watch and the windows of the house. It struck her as curiously uninhabited. Past six!
"Well, don't you think I'd better leave you here?" She fumbled nervously with her wrist-watch. "I won't stay here if you go," she said finally. "I hate Mr. Weaver. I'm afraid of him. I oh, don't leave me, Graham. Don't. I haven't anybody but you. I haven't any home not a real home. You ought to see him these days." She always referred to her father as "him." "He's dreadful.
"I haven't any idea." She opened her door a little wider. Her yellow hair covered her shoulders like a mantilla. "Who could it be at this hour?" she repeated uneasily. McKay peered at the phosphorescent dial of his wrist-watch: "I don't know," he repeated. "I can't imagine who would come here at this hour." "Don't strike a light!" she whispered. "No, I think I won't."
Then she remembered. She had promised to get luncheon or afternoon tea or a snack for Francis before he went. She felt as if she could eat something herself. "At this rate," she told herself, "I'll be as fat as a pig!" She thought, as she moved about, to look down at the little wrist-watch that had been one of Francis's ante-bellum gifts to her. And it was half-past five o'clock.
By what struck her as an odd coincidence, the table was decorated with a vase of white roses whose hearts blushed faintly in the light of a pink-shaded electric lamp. A quarter of an hour, twenty minutes, dragged along, and no Mr. Smith. Annesley could follow the passing moments on her wrist-watch in its silver bracelet, the only present Mrs.
Yes, it must be Bob. No one else would be out riding at that hour of the night. Betty glanced at her wrist-watch half-past ten. The rhythmic beat of the horse's hoofs sounded more plainly, and soon Betty heard the sound of singing. Bob was moved to song in that lovely moonlight, as his sorry mount was urged to unaccustomed spirit and a feeling of freedom.
And then: "Have you got all your things?" "Somebody's got 'em." "I haven't given you anything. You must have my wrist-watch." She unstrapped the leather band and put it on him. "My wrist's a whopper." "So's mine. It'll just meet at the last hole. It's phosphorous," she said. "You can see the time by it in the dark." "I've nothing for you.
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