Sealed Lips — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

SHALED LIPS, 70 felt he had a right to blame her for her cold greet- ing. “Probably,” thought he, “some charitable creat- ure has told her some of the gossip on her account, and she has heard of the part that I so foolishly acted. But should I be obliged to lose my arm, I must obtain her pardon. I need her smile.” First of all it was prudent to know the extent of the evil. There was an empty chair beside Jenny’s mother. Patrice seated himself in it, although her air was even less gracious than her daughter’s. “We do not see you at the opera any more, mon- sieur,” said the lady. The young man replied: “Tl have just returned from a long voyage, which fatigued me very much, so I go to bed early.” “Not every evening, at least, so I hear,” replied the Roumanian. “The proverb, birds of a feather flock together, is not always true. You are the com- panion of the steadiest man in the world, and while he prefers music, it is dancing that charms you.” “Dancing!” exclaimed the astonished O’Farrell. “Or at least dancers. At the Opera, the other evening, all the talk was of your generosity.” This time Patrice understood. His crime then was not calumny, but a certain supper, the other night, in not the most edifying company. That, then, was what had clouded her charming face. At this thought he blushed less from confusion than GoOmichboo KS |