She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. He nodded silently, too full for words. As a net result she had come to think of all married people much as one thinks of insects that have lost their wings, and of her sisters as new hatched creatures who had scarcely for a moment had wings. “I know nothing whatever of his friends or his home.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 08:49:46