Kitty, Volume 2

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Page 185 - Perry watched them, with childish glee, as he loitered on the shore sketch-book in hand, and hoped that in the next stage of existence he should be the owner of one of those pretty yachts, and -not the poor artist drawing it from a distance with longing eyes. One morning he lay at full length on the sands watching a yacht come in ; she was an elegant little craft, and scudded along in a fair wind at such a rate that one might have fancied a pirate-ship was at her heels. Perry saw a red flag hoisted...
Page 126 - ... the flowers along the railway banks and the sections in the cuttings : then it grieves me to see what little use people make of the eyes and of the understanding which God has given them. They complain of a dull journey : but it is not the journey which is dull ; it is they who are dull. Eyes have they, and see not ; ears have they, and hear not ; mere dolls in smart clothes, too many of them, like the idols of the heathen.
Page 161 - Kitty who could think of something for her to eat. Sir George's gratitude was rapturous, and as soon as Ella became convalescent, revived her plan regarding Kitty's future. " It is not a question of choice, it is a question of necessity," he said. " Kitty must come to us. She is just the sort of person we want ; we are just the people she wants. It really seems a dispensation of Providence — but I don't think, my dear, we need say anything about salary. What a home it is for her ! " " Papa ! "...
Page 123 - RCACHON is the quaintest place in the •*•*• world, with a little village of lodginghouses, built like pagodas, forests of little pinetrees, little walks and drives about a little lake, and a climate of such soporific quality as to produce a kind of mental torpor upon all tourists who go there. So soporific, indeed, is the pinescented air, that one would be inclined to think an assassin might forget the murder on his conscience, a philanthropist his schemes, an author his critics, whilst breathing...
Page 241 - ... admiration. Perhaps it was because I came of gentle blood — so they told me — and the instinct of respectability was too strong for me. I felt like an alien, and I determined to elevate myself, some day or other, at any cost. I used to sit at home — a very Cinderella among the ashes — thinking, thinking; scheming, scheming. I had no gifts ; that was the worst of it. I could act passably, but not well enough to go on the stage. I could sing and play a little, but had no musical instinct...
Page 261 - Wherever cathedrals, or picture-galleries, or ruins were to be seen, Kitty went, escorted by Sir George and the courier. Sir George knew a great deal about architecture and antiquities, something also of pictures, and did his best to inform Kitty. But nothing could possibly have been duller, Kitty thought, though she very carefully concealed her sentiments. Sir George saw everything that was to be seen for his money, tired himself and his companion to death rather than let cicerones cheat him of...
Page 241 - ... pictures, and music, and beautiful things, and often went without food to get a taste of them. Yet, as I grew to be a woman, I hated the life. I longed for softness and refinement, as other women long for finery and admiration. Perhaps it was because I came of gentle blood — so they told me — and the instinct of respectability was too strong for me. I felt like an alien, and I determined to elevate myself, some day or other, at any cost. I used to sit at home — a very Cinderella among the...
Page 240 - ... earth, taking no care for the morrow; feasting one day, starving the next; but we broke no laws except those of custom and comfort. The men were honest, the women were good, and a universal tie of kindness and charity bound them together. It was a merry life that we led in this Bohemia of ours, Ella, and as free from care as the life of the birds in the woods. If one of us wanted a shilling, a coat, or a loaf of bread, there were our neighbours', ready for us ; and towards myself, the goodness...
Page 66 - Bartelotte was one of those tiny, fragile, diaphanous-looking women who remain children all their lives — which are not often long — and fascinate people by their helplessness and angelic bearing of what may be described as a negative existence. Of an organisation so weak that the exercise of every sense carried pain with it, she yet continued to dabble in music, books, travel, and talk, and enjoy them all. Her lungs were weak ; her digestive powers of no better quality ; her brain incapable...
Page 127 - You know it bores other people dreadfully, especially young people. I cannot think how it is that nothing in the world seems to bore you." " Could I find anything to bore me here, I should be a captious wretch, not fit to live," Kitty answered, demurely. " But tell me honestly, dear — do you like old books ? " " I do, indeed. You know, my childhood was spent among scholarly people, and I am interested in everything they liked.

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