Decidedly this was imbecile. Rich folks, once. "Don't speak ill of him behind his back, father," interposed Thames. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. For a long time there had been a standing offer from the company at Copeley's to take over the McClintock plantation; and today he had decided to sell. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 24-09-2024 08:10:49