श्रीदेवी 143 गेसिंग

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"Delightful indeed! But Alfred Bennett is a man of sense not to marry any of the string of women who I suppose are running after him!" she said. Miss Clinton looked at her in a mild kind of wonder, but she went on hacking Mr. Johnson's coat-sleeve with the needle without noticing the glance at all.,

"Oh, oh," she breathed, "I didn't know you could talk like that, Elinor. It sounds like some beautiful book.",

Sleep is one of the most delightful and undervalued amusements known to the human race. I have never had enough yet, and every second of time that I'm not busy with something interesting, I curl up on the bed and go dream-hunting—only I sleep too hard to do much catching. But this torture book found that out about me, and stopped it the very first thing on page three. The command is to sleep as little as possible to keep the nerves in a good condition—"eight hours at the most, and seven would be better." What earthly good would a seven-hour nap do me? I want ten hours to sleep and twelve if I get a good tired start. To see me stagger out of my perfectly nice bed at six o'clock every morning now would wring the sternest heart with compassion and admiration at my faithfulness—to whom?,

"What do you wish to say?"

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"This young person, though evidently of an investigating turn of mind, has not quite fathomed the nature of the reigning beauty of our little coterie. Being of a candid and affable nature herself, she fails to comprehend how the fangs of the green-eyed monster, once fastened in the tender heart of said beauty, make the said beauty so mortally uncomfy that she's bound to take it out on somebody—and who so natural or convenient as the critter who sicked the serpent on her.",

It was not until all the guests had gone, and David and his friends had taken their reluctant leave with fervid promises of speedy reunion at Greycroft, and the packers had disappeared with the big canvas and the cartoons [Transcriber's note: cartons?], and Hannah Ann and Henry had reduced everything to a state of perfection that even the most critical Symons in the world could not cavil at, and Bruce had said his last farewells and was on the blue rug at the studio door with his hand on the knob to usher them out, that Patricia found utterance for her seething thoughts.,

"What's the matter?" insisted Patricia, nudging her to compel her attention, but Judith's gaze was wandering all about in search of Elinor, and she answered absently. "There she is, up on the stand with Griffin," she murmured in dismay. "I can never let her know. I wish I could catch her eye; can't you signal her, Miss Pat? You're taller than I am.",

The gay little song persisted, much to the dissatisfaction of the severe monitor, Miss Green, whose fat and lugubrious countenance took on a deeper shade of gloom at every hushed note that trembled in Patricia's rounded throat.