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J. M. Barrie (b. 1860), the author of Peter Pan, wrote one of my preferred plays. It is called Quality Street *** What happened to women during the Napoleonic wars? They were impoverished and they had ... Read full review
arrowroot ARTHUR ashamed Aunt Phoebe Aunt Susan Auntie ball bedroom big boys blue and white bombazine bows cane Captain Brown Charlotte Parratt cloak curls curtsy dance dare dashing dear Dear Phoebe door Ensign Blades enters eyes face was wet flirt gallant garden gazing gentleman girl goes gone Good-bye happy headache hear HENRIETTA and MISS hope hurt ISABELLA kiss ladies laughing Livvy's look ma'am maid Mary mean MISS FANNY MISS HENRIETTA Miss Livvy Miss Liwy Miss Phoebe MISS SUSAN gives MISS WILLOUGHBY moon never niece once ottoman PATTY peeping pretty pupils quadrille Quality Street recruiting sergeant remember retire ringlets SERGEANT shame shrubbery shudders sister smiles soldier spinet sternly sure sweet tell thought Throssel to-day turn Twas Valentine Brown wear wedding-gown white room William Smith Willoughby and Miss window wish wistfully woman young
Page 21 - Even plain women, Phoebe, we can't help it; when we are young we have romantic ideas just as if we were pretty. And so the wedding-gown was never used. Long before it was finished I knew he would not offer, but I finished it, and then I put it away. I have always hidden it from you, Phoebe, but of late I have brought it out again, and altered it. [She goes to ottoman and unlocks it.] PHOEBE. Susan, I could not wear it. [Miss SUSAN brings the wedding-gown.] Oh! how sweet, how beautiful! Miss SUSAN....
Page 143 - PHOEBE. Susan, his face hasn't changed ! VALENTINE. Dear Phoebe Throssel, will you be Phoebe Brown ? PHOEBE (quivering). You know everything? And that I am not a garden ? VALENTINE. I know everything, ma'am — except that. PHOEBE (so very glad to be prim at the end). Sir, the dictates of my heart enjoin me to accept your too flattering offer.
Page 121 - Oh yes, yes. VALENTINE You told Miss Livvy that you loved me once. How carefully you hid it from me ! PHOEBE (More firmly} A woman must never tell. You went away to the great battles. I was left to fight in a little one. Women have a flag' to fly, Mr. Brown, as well as men, and old maids have a flag as well as women. I tried to keep mine flying, VALENTINE But you ceased to care for me.
Page 4 - Miss Susan and Miss Willoughby, alas, already wear caps ; but all the four are dear ladies, so refined that we ought not to be discussing them without a more formal introduction. There seems no sufficient reason why we should choose Miss Phoebe as our heroine rather than any one of the others, except, perhaps, that we like her name best. But we gave her the name, so we must support our choice and say that she is slightly the nicest, unless, indeed, Miss Susan is nicer.
Page 41 - PHOEBE, who is not a very accomplished classical scholar, is taking a final peep at the declensions when MISS SUSAN reappears excitedly.) PHOEBE. What is it ? MISS SUSAN (tragically). William Smith ! Phoebe, I tried to look ferocious, indeed I did, but he saw I was afraid, and before the whole school he put out his tongue at me.
Page 58 - Miss SUSAN. Fifteen years, and still you are hopeful? PATTY. There is not a more hopeful woman in all the king's dominions. Miss SUSAN. You who are so much older than Miss Phoebe. PATTY. Yes, ma'am, I ha' the advantage of her by ten years. Miss SUSAN. It would be idle to pretend that you are specially comely. PATTY. That may be, but my face is my own, and the more I see it in the glass the more it pleases me. I never look at it but I say to myself, "Who is to be the lucky man?
Page 40 - SUSAN (a* soon as ARTHUR has gone). Phoebe, if a herring and a half cost three ha'pence, how many for elevenpence ? PHOEBE (instantly). Eleven. MISS SUSAN. William Smith says it is fifteen; and he is such a big boy, do you think I ought to contradict him ? May I say there are differences of opinion about it? No one can be really sure, Phoebe. PHOEBE. It is eleven. I once worked it out with real herrings.