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Updated: August 16, 2024
The poetry reading and the long, long talks went on every day, and Rose's heart was hopelessly and forever gone. She knew nothing more of Mr. Reinecourt than that he was Mr. Reinecourt; still, she hardly cared to know. She was in love, and an idiot; to-day sufficed for her to-morrow might take care of itself. "Rose, chérie," Mr.
But she made no effort to withdraw them. She only bent her head and wept as though her heart were breaking. "Chérie, chérie!" he said, and that was all; for he had no words wherewith to comfort her. He had wrought the mischief, but the remedy did not lie with him. His own lips quivered above her bowed head; he bit them desperately.
But at the time they could only offer suitable congratulations to Chèrie, who received them and carried off the situation with a charming mingling of assurance and graciousness, which was worthy of her mother. But the Graysons were right in saying it was quick work; late one afternoon Chèrie heard of Mr.
Eliza was still touchy when Trenholme ventured to peep into the kitchen. "I don't know how you dare show your face," she cried wrathfully. "The impidence of men nowadays! Just fancy you comin' an' openin' my door!" "But, chérie, what have I done?" he inquired, his brown eyes wide with astonishment. "I'm not your cherry, nor your peach, neither. Who put that clock in my room?"
They are sitting where they have been left by their two companions, in one of the boxes of the theater, looking out upon the unwearied whirl and flash of gauze and light and color. "Oh, chérie, chérie!" murmured the little lady in the Monk's disguise to her quieter companion, and speaking in the soft dialect of old Louisiana, "now you get a good idea of heaven!"
He would put the book face downwards on his knee and pucker his brows. "Mon Dieu, ma cherie, what do you want me to say?" "That you love me." "I've just said it." "Say it again." "Je l'aime bien. Voila!" "And that's all?" "Of course it's all. What remains to be said?" The honest fellow was mystified. He could not keep on repeating the formula for the two or three hours of their repose.
Polkington and Chèrie that the great campaign had failed; it was the finishing touch, no doubt, in that it had made Chèrie feel the necessity of being immediately engaged to some one, but there were other things at work.
It was therefore with her air of melancholy that she paused in her advance along the terrace to gaze out at the prospect, and with an air of emphasized calm and dignity that she finally came towards her friend; and, as she came, thus armed, the blitheness deepened in the great woman's eyes. "Well, ma chèrie," she remarked, "How goes it?" She spoke in French.
Then Aurora first quietly took possession of her hands, and after another tender pause asked in English, which was equivalent to whispering: "Were you was, chérie?" "'Sieur Frowenfel' "
She made slowly for her mother, who stood in the doorway, flung herself into her arms and burst into a passion of tears. "Ma cherie, what is it, whence hast thou come?" asked the good mother alarmed. She lifted Toinette into her arms as she spoke, and hastened indoors.
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