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Updated: May 21, 2025
If you wish to marry some honest man, so much the better; still better will it be if I can find one. If you don't consent to do this, I will kill myself. "This time the comtesse ordered her daughter to go to bed and never to speak again in this manner, so unbecoming in the mouth of a child toward her mother. "Yvette's answer to this was: 'I give you a month to reflect.
The Marquise having taken Saval's arm, he took Yvette's, and they began to stroll about the lawn, appearing and disappearing every minute, behind the clumps of trees. Yvette walked with a thoughtful air, looking at the gravel of the pathway, appearing hardly to hear what her companion said and scarcely answering him. Suddenly she asked: "Are you truly my friend, Muscade?"
But Servigny, who had just said something in a low tone to Saval, replied to her: "No, it is all over. Come, go out a minute, just a minute, and I promise you that she will kiss you when you come back." And the Baron, taking Madame Obardi by the arm, led her from the room. Then Servigny, sitting-by the bed, took Yvette's hand and said: "Mam'zelle, listen to me." She did not answer.
It was Miss Yvette's boast that she had never ridden in a street-car in her life. Montague always had a soft spot in his heart for the unfortunate Miss Yvette, who laboured so hard to be a guiding light; for it chanced to be while she was in the ring, exhibiting her skill in driving tandem, that he met with a fateful encounter.
No word or gesture or movement of young Homer Locker and Yvette Hinchbrooke went undiscussed. Nobody in town was unaware of Homer's infatuation for the coffee demonstrator with the one exception of Homer's father, who was too busy waiting upon the unaccustomed rush of trade to notice anything else. On the fourth evening of Yvette's stay in Coldriver there was a dance in the town hall.
We had both found it convenient to shelter our feelings behind small talk. "I'd no idea you could get tea like this in Bruges." "You can't," Rosa smiled. "I never travel without my own brand. It is one of Yvette's special cares not to forget it." "Your maid?" "Yes." "She seems not quite the ordinary maid," I ventured. "Yvette? No! I should think not.
When we were riding across the plains if a bird ran along the ground or a hare jumped out of the grass, he was after it like a dog. Often I would find myself flying toward an animal which I had never seen. Yvette's pony was useless for hunting antelope. Instead of heading diagonally toward the gazelles he would always attempt to follow the herd.
After half an hour my pony was gasping for breath, and I changed to Yvette's chestnut stallion. The Mongol joined me and we had another run, but we might have been pursuing a streak of shifting sunlight. Finally we had to give it up and watch the tiny thing bob away toward its mother, who was circling about in the distance.
November 2, the sun rose in an absolutely cloudless sky and during the remainder of the winter we had as perfect weather as one could wish. Yvette's constant nursing and efficient surgery combined with the devotion of our interpreter, Wu, had checked the spread of the poison in my hand and my nights were no longer haunted with the strange fancies of delirium, but I was as helpless as a babe.
An extract from Yvette's "Journal" gives her impression of the chase: "Some one pointed out the distant, moving specks on the horizon and in a moment our car had left the road and started over the plains. Nearer and nearer we came, and faster and faster ran the antelope stringing out in a long, yellow line before us. The speedometer was moving up and up, thirty miles, thirty-five miles.
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