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"I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. You'd be coming up to Hong-Kong, but you'd be cutting out Canton. I'm no mollycoddle. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. “MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. ’ ‘Gosse,’ corrected Lucilla.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 02:25:53