"
"Only two minutes more, Sir," intreated Edgeworth Bess, advancing towards
him in such a manner as to screen Jack, who crept into the farthest part of the
angle,—"only two minutes, and we've done. ’
‘Pottiswick, you mean, miss?’
‘Yes, yes. A severe pang shot through Jack's heart, and he would
have given worlds if he possessed them to have seen his friend once more. Widgett was a journalist and art critic, addicted to a
greenish-gray tweed suit and “art” brown ties; he smoked corncob pipes in the
Avenue on Sunday morning, travelled third class to London by unusual trains,
and openly despised golf. It resembled
Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New
Orleans. "You can do so. By now the horses would be
rested and he might go as swiftly back again. ‘I will
fight to the death, if it needs. Trust you. He rested on one elbow. ”
“What did you say?”
“I said, ‘My dear Veronica! how can you think of such things?’”
“And then?”
“She had two more cups of tea and some cake, and told me of her walk. Disengaging his right arm, Jonathan struck his
victim a tremendous blow on the head with the bludgeon, that fractured his skull;
and, exerting all his strength, threw him over the rails, to which he clung with
the tenacity of despair. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring
in her ears. Gentlemen! a glass of brandy will be no bad
finish to our meal. The veranda bamboo will be
enough for me.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 01-07-2024 22:10:37