“I didn’t know you were half-Gypsy
either. ‘Do you think I would do to him as he made
a threat to do to me? No. This is my last week at the ‘Unusual,’
you know. I dare say anything seemed better to her
than the nun’s habit she had been obliged to use. ‘I do not wish to be like him, but it is entirely reasonable
that it should be so. Then he understood. The more she disentangled the lines of her
situation the deeper grew her self-disgust. Read it, and you'll find that your unfortunate
uncle, Sir Rowland, surrenders to you all the estates in Lancashire. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. “What’s the
objection?”
“I suppose she ought to know?” said Gwen to her mother, trying to alter the
key of the conversation. 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. "
"When will you want me?"—with pitiful eagerness. We had better have it over. "
"You had better take some refreshment before you start," rejoined Wild.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 19-07-2024 22:08:55