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" "I will not attempt to combat your resolution, Jack," returned Thames, after a pause. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. You had better let me go again. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. Gracious, there’s the gong. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. She found she could do her microscope work all the better for being in love. ” His voice sounded muffled and heavy, as if he had gone to bed. We’re hedged about with discretions— and all this furniture—and successes! We are successful at last! Successful! But the mountains, dear! We won’t forget the mountains, dear, ever. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 01:07:38