MADAME LA MARQUISE
est enthusiasm when the sound of a siren, followed by the quick “chug-chug” of the stop brake of madame’s motor, announced the arrival of that distinguished woman an hour ahead of time.
“Ah!—gentlemen!” she shouted out, rising from her seat, both hands extended before any of us could reach her car, “I have come over to crown you with laurel! Oh, what a magnificent lot of heroes!—and to think you saved my poor, miserable little mouse-trap of a villa that has been trying all its life to slide down hill into the sea and get washed and scrubbed. No, I don’t want your help—I’m going to jump!” and out she came, man’s ulster, black-velvet jockey cap, short skirt, high boots, and all, Marc following.
“And now, Monsieur Marc, give me a little help—no, not here—down below the seat. Careful, now! And the teakwood stand is there too—I steadied them both with my feet. There, you dear men!”—here she lifted the priceless treasure above her head, her eyes dancing—“what do you think of your punch-bowl? This is for your choicest mixtures whenever you meet, and not one of you shall have a drop out of it unless you promise to make
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