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The man himself was not a pleasant object. There was a short, red-faced, resolute youth who inherited an authoritative attitude upon bacteriology from his father; a Japanese student of unassuming manners who drew beautifully and had an imperfect knowledge of English; and a dark, unwashed Scotchman with complicated spectacles, who would come every morning as a sort of volunteer supplementary demonstrator, look very closely at her work and her, tell her that her dissections were “fairish,” or “very fairish indeed,” or “high above the normal female standard,” hover as if for some outbreak of passionate gratitude and with admiring retrospects that made the facetted spectacles gleam like diamonds, return to his own place. I’m making a mess of my life— unless you come in and take it. The bed-and table-linen were of the finest texture. What is there?” “Tristan.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 22:43:55