When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
Traske and the Bracelet –––––––– Glitter of glass and perfume of flowers, the music of women’s laughter, the sparkle of jewels upon white bosoms, all the nameless air of content and wellbeing which pervades such a restaurant as Luigi’s during the holy hour of all Englishmen—the hour when he dines. The little orchestra, whose soft restrained playing was one of the charms of the place, had just finished the “Salut D’Amour.” Smoothly shining heads were bent towards more elaborate coiffures; whispers and smiles and glances, lit with meaning, flashed backwards and forwards between the occupants of the small tables. Dark visaged maîtres d’hôtel, deft and eager, watched the scene with interest. At one table only, a large round one near the door, were there any signs of dissatisfaction. The tab