She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. I did not reckon upon—him.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 24-09-2024 08:41:30