Some excuse for this rapacity may perhaps be found in the fact, that five thousand pounds was paid for the purchase of the Press Yard by Mr. Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment. ‘But lay him down. Well, let him be honest. Least of all myself. ’ He opened the purse and extracted a couple of guineas. If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. “He and I don’t seem to get on at all with our fellow-guests, as Mrs. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly. “I think she would,” she decided. She put her head out of the window. Manning told her he loved beauty, and extorted a similar admission from her; he then expatiated upon his own love of beauty.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 11-09-2024 03:43:38
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