. Perfect pearls of poetry and prose; the most unique, touching, inspiring and beautiful literary . shirt like a bull at a red flag. Foul! he shouted in malici-ous triumph. No buttons on thexieck! Because, said Mrs. Mann, sweet-ly, after a deliberate stare at thefidgeting, impatient man, during whichshe buttoned her dress and put elevenpins where they would do the mostgood, because you have got the shirton wrong side out. When Mr. Mann slid out of theshirt he began to sweat. He droppedthe shirt three times before he got iton, and while it was over his head heheard the clock strike
. Perfect pearls of poetry and prose; the most unique, touching, inspiring and beautiful literary . shirt like a bull at a red flag. Foul! he shouted in malici-ous triumph. No buttons on thexieck! Because, said Mrs. Mann, sweet-ly, after a deliberate stare at thefidgeting, impatient man, during whichshe buttoned her dress and put elevenpins where they would do the mostgood, because you have got the shirton wrong side out. When Mr. Mann slid out of theshirt he began to sweat. He droppedthe shirt three times before he got iton, and while it was over his head heheard the clock strike t«n. When his head came through he saw Mrs. Mann coaxing the ends and bows of hernecktie. Where are my shirt-studs ? he cried. Mrs. Mann went out into another room and presently came back withgloves and hat, and saw Mr. Mann emptying all the boxes he could findin and around the bureau. Then she said, In the shirt you justpulled off. Mrs. Mann put on her gloves while Mr. Mann hunted up and downthe room for his cuff-buttons. Eleanor, he snarled at last, I believe you must know wher«those cuff-buttons 12S TOO LATE FOR THE TRAIN. I havent seen them, said the lady settling her hat; *didnt youlay them down on the window-sill in the sitting-room last night ? Mr. Mann remembered, and he went down stairs on the run. Hestepped on one of his boots and was immediately landed in the hall at theibot of the stairs with neatness and dispatch, attended in the transmis-»ion with more bumps than he could count with Webbs Adder, and landedwith a bang Uke the Hell Gate explosion. Are you nearly ready, Algernon ? sweetly asked the wife of hisbosom, leaning over the banisters. The unhappy man groaned. Cant you throw me down the otherSoot? he asked. Mrs. Mann piteously kicked it down to him. My valise ? he inquired, as he tugged at the boot. Up in your dressing-room, she answered. Packed? I do not know; unless you packed it yourself, probably not, sherephed, with her hand on the door-knob; I
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Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectenglishliterature
