A Parisian Romance — page 72: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

—_— A PARISIAN ROMANCE 63. Tirandel opened his eyes, yawned, and rose slowly to his feet. “Confound it!” he drawled. “One can’t be com-. fortable anywhere!” And he sauntered after the others, who had already disappeared. Vaumartin had spoken the turth. There was no oné in the room save the host and hostess, Madame Charteris, and a very beautiful woman with golden hair and deep blue eyes, the Baroness Chevrial. “My wife!” muttered the baron to himself, as he caught sight of her. “Humph! I had forgotten all about her.” “My dear Marcelle,” Aunt Reine was saying gushingly, “everything has been delightful—ah! Monsieur Vaumartin, you are always on hand when I want you. You can take me to my carriage.” “Charmed, I’m sure,” but his looks belied his words. ; However, he submitted to the inevitable, and the good woman sailed off on his arm, followed slowly by Tirandel, who had murmured some unintelligible farewell to his hostess, which might have been expressive of his enjoyment of the ball or the reverse. “Your wife has been so kind, baron,” said Mar- celle, brightly. “She promised me to remain till the end of my first ball, and, you see, she has kept her word.” The baroness smiled sweetly, as she took the hand EComicbooksico in