Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 180: what you’re looking at

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

“WHEiE CAN SHE BE ?” 171 CHAPTER XXI. ‘'WHERE OAN SHE BE?’’ Mademoiselle Florine was just awaking. First, she slow- ly opened her blue eyes, then she yawned, and finally, with an effort, she brought herself to a sitting posture, with one arm still thrown over the pillow. ‘The sun, sey- eral hours high, was trying to peep through the drawn curtains, and half succeeded, for one broken ray danced on the water in a pitcher near the window, while another slanted across the toilet-table and reflected itself in the mirror. Sleepily, and with her hair escaping from the con- finements of its pins, she put one foot on the carpet, then changing her mind, or, perhaps, finding it more comforta- ble where she was, she simply turned in bed and touched a bell. Instantly her maid entered. ‘‘Madame rang?’’ she said, in French. ‘“Why, of course,’’ was the rather short response, given in the same language. ‘“‘Bring my breakfast and my gown.’”’ The woman held a delicate garment of silk and lace for her to put her arms into, and then left the chamber, to re- appear presently with a tray, on which she carried a pot of chocolate and a roll. Mademoiselle Florine sipped the chocolate and took a bite or two of the roll. Then she pushed them aside. ‘‘Tt is late, is it not?’’ she asked. “Ten o’clock, madame,’’ answered the maid, throwing open the blinds and letting in the fresh, balmy air, “‘and Gomichookssco im