She had not noticed such beauty in many years, and it almost caused her to weep. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 19-09-2024 09:19:57
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