" "Bring him here,—let me see him—let me embrace him—let me be assured that he is safe, and I am yours. . His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. A bowl of roses, just brought by Ann Veronica, adorned the communal dressing-table, and Ann Veronica was particularly trim in preparation for a call she was to make with her aunt later in the afternoon. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 04-06-2024 15:29:19
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