Xingu: And Other Stories

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C. Scribner's Sons, 1917 - New York (N.Y.) - 434 pages
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Page 16 - That distinguished personage had indeed entered with an air of compulsion not calculated to promote the easy exercise of hospitality. She looked as though she were about to be photographed for a new edition of her books. The desire to propitiate a divinity is generally in inverse ratio to its responsiveness, and the sense of discouragement produced by Osric Dane's entrance visibly increased the Lunch Club's eagerness to please her. Any lingering idea that she might consider herself under an obligation...
Page 109 - I understand that, poor child! You know how good she's always been to me; how she's tried to spare me. And she knew, of course, what a state of horror I'd be in. She knew I'd rush off to her at once and try to stop it. So she never gave me a hint of anything, and she even managed to muzzle Susy Suffern — you know Susy is the one of the family who keeps me informed about things at home. I don't yet see how she prevented Susy's telling me; but she did. And her first letter, the one I got up at...
Page 146 - It would be more of a prison. You forget that I know all about that. We're all imprisoned, of course — all of us middling people, who don't carry our freedom in our brains. But we've accommodated ourselves to our different cells, and if we're moved suddenly into new ones we're likely to find a stone wall where we thought there was thin air, and to knock ourselves senseless against it. I saw a man do that once.
Page 24 - Mrs. Leveret interjected, seeming to herself to remember that she had either taken it or read it the winter before. "Of course," Mrs. Roby admitted, "the difficulty is that one must give up so much time to it. It's very long." "I can't imagine," said Miss Van Vluyck, "grudging the time given to such a subject." "And deep in places,
Page 114 - Susy used to represent the old New York. There's no old New York left, it seems. She talked in the most amazing way. She snaps her fingers at the Purshes. She told me — me, that every woman had a right to happiness and that self-expression was the highest duty. She accused me of misunderstanding Leila; she said my point of view was conventional ! She was bursting with pride at having been in the secret, and wearing a brooch that Wilbour Barkley'd given her!
Page 4 - one of the ladies who pursue Culture in bands, as though it were dangerous to meet alone.
Page 33 - Really, it is too bad that we should not be able to talk the matter over quietly among ourselves. Personally, I think that if one goes into Xingu at all " "Oh, so do I!" cried Miss Glyde. "And I don't see how one can avoid doing so, if one wishes to keep up with the Thought of the Day " Mrs. Leveret uttered an exclamation of relief. "There — that's it!" she interposed. "What's it?" the President took her up. "Why — it's a — a Thought: I mean a philosophy.
Page 310 - I N the days when New York's traffic moved at the pace of the drooping horsecar, when society applauded Christine Nilsson at the Academy of Music and basked in the sunsets of the Hudson River School on the walls of the National Academy of Design, an inconspicuous shop with a single show-window was intimately and favourably known to the feminine population of the quarter bordering on Stuyvesant Square. It was a very small shop, in a shabby basement, in a side-street already doomed to decline...
Page 274 - Yes, it is. What on earth did you do it for?" "I? Do what? . . . Why I. ... I was just taking a walk. ... I often walk at night. . . ." Frank Rainer burst into a laugh. "On such nights? Then you hadn't bolted?" "Bolted?" "Because I'd done something to offend you? My uncle thought you had." Faxon grasped his arm. "Did your uncle send you after me?" "Well, he gave me an awful rowing for not going up to your room with you when you said you were ill. And when we found you'd gone we were frightened—...
Page 26 - I'm so sorry," she said, advancing toward her hostess with outstretched hand, "but before Mrs. Dane begins I think I'd better run away. Unluckily, as you know, I haven't read her books, so I should be at a terrible disadvantage among you, and besides, I've an engagement to play bridge." If Mrs. Roby had simply pleaded her ignorance of Osric Dane's works as a reason for withdrawing, the Lunch Club, in view of her recent prowess, might have approved such evidence of discretion; but to couple this excuse...

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