Genre - Romance. You are on the page - 35
at my appearance did no discredit to Sullivan and the great lady, his wife.At eight o'clock, when the conductor appeared at his desk to an accompaniment of applauding taps from the musicians, the house was nearly full. The four tiers sent forth a sparkle of diamonds, of silk, and of white arms and shoulders which rivalled the glitter of the vast crystal chandelier. The wide floor of serried stalls (those stalls of which one pair at least had gone for six pound ten) added their more sombre
easily expelled, and had dyed with blackness the walls towhich, bat-like, it had clung, these tapers served but ill tolight up the gloomy hangings, and seemed to throw yet darkershadows into the hollows of the deep-wrought cornice. All thefurther portions of the room lay shrouded in a mystery whosedeepest folds were gathered around the dark oak cabinet which Inow approached with a strange mingling of reverence andcuriosity. Perhaps, like a geologist, I was about to turn up tothe light some of
e with you. The railway last night for twenty miles back was held up for State purposes. We none of us know why, and it doesn't do to be too curious over here, but they have an idea that you are either a journalist or a spy.""Civis Britannicus sum!" the boy answered, with a laugh. "It doesn't quite mean what it used to, sir," the man answered quietly. CHAPTER II AT THE CAFΓ MONTMARTRE Exactly a week later, at five minutes after midnight, Guy Poynton, in evening dress,
For the time being she raised her eyes and looked into LordBracondale's, and something told her they were the nicest eyes she hadever seen in this world.Then when a voluble French count had rushed up, with garrulous apologiesfor being late, the party was complete, and they swept into therestaurant. Theodora sat between the Western millionaire and the Russian Prince, butbeyond--it was a round table, only just big enough to hold them--cameher hostess and Lord Bracondale, and two or three times at
ction?--notfor publication, of course.""I should suppose not," said Ridley significantly. "For a Divine hewas--remarkably free." "The Pump in Neville's Row, for example?" enquired Mr. Pepper. "Precisely," said Ambrose. Each of the ladies, being after the fashion of their sex, highly trainedin promoting men's talk without listening to it, could think--about theeducation of children, about the use of fog sirens in an opera--withoutbetraying herself.