Explore "Iris. From "The Professor at the Breakfast-Table." By Oliver Wendell Holmes" by Dinah Mulock on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
These young girls that live in boarding-houses can do pretty much as they will. The female _gendarmes_ are off guard occasionally. The sitting-room has its solitary moments, when any two boarders who wish to meet may come together accidentally (_accidentally_, I said, Madam, and I had not the slightest intention of italicizing the word) and discuss the social or political questions of the day, or any other subject that may prove interesting. Many charming conversations take place at the foot of the stairs, or while one of the parties is holding the latch of a door, -- in the shadow of porticos, and especially on those outside balconies which some of our Southern neighbors call "stoops," the most charming places in the world when the moon is just right and the roses and honeysuckles are in full blow, -- as we used to think in eighteen hundred and never mention it.
On such a balcony or "stoop," one evening, I walked with Iris. We were on pretty good terms now, and I had coaxed her arm under mine, -- my left arm, of course. That leaves one's right arm free to defend the lovely creature, if the rival -- odious wretch! -- attempt to ravish her from your side. Likewise if one's heart should happen to beat a little, its mute language will not be without its meaning, as you will perceive when the arm you hold begins to tremble, -- a circumstance like to occur, if you happen to be a good-looking young fellow, and you two have the "stoop" to yourselves.