The White Monkey (John Galsworthy)
Michael put his latchkey into the lock of his front door. Such things had been said to her before; but from Wilfrid it was serious. Isn’t the Snooks Club meeting rather exciting?
The most distinguished Conversation ever held between the Dead. The furniture had come to a sudden standstill.
Fleur let her hand stay against his hot lips. Fleur’s pen resumed its swift strokes, already becoming slightly illegible. A possibility; but suppose he wanted to play them something recent?
He came back to the hearth, and said: Ugly, isn’t it? It was all frightfully amusing, frightfully necessary! She avoided unnecessary greetings or farewells. They might, she always felt, disapprove of women smoking in public halls. Would it bring him or would it put him off?
By Jove, that’s a mot, or is it a bull; and are bulls mots or mots bulls? He’ll read one specimen of every author and say: Oh! Reminded him that the state of love was a good stunt for poets.
And suddenly, dropping Ting-a-ling, she got up and began to walk about the room. Ting-a-ling was licking the copper floor. Fleur said coldly: You know very little; I AM fond of Michael. It also tells you how you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. And suddenly, dropping Ting-a-ling, she got up and began to walk about the room. Why, for instance, do we continually run ourselves down?
A smile twisted his lips and eyebrows which resembled spinney’s of dark pothooks. There Hugo and the rest could see her taking her place in the English restoration movement. When those three came in she was sitting before a red lacquer tea-table, finishing a very good tea. She avoided unnecessary greetings or farewells.
In the present epoch, no Early Victorianism survives. Consorting delicately with iconoclasm, Fleur never forgot that her feet were in two worlds at least.
The little dog’s prominent round eyes gazed back; bright, black, very old. Desert said slowly: The moment I believe that, I shall go East.
In Fleur’s involuntary smile was the whole secret of why her marriage had not been intolerable. The vice of our lot is, they say it pretty well, but they’ve nothing to say. The little dog’s prominent round eyes gazed back; bright, black, very old. With circular movement of her squeezed hand, she said: Draw up.