I am going up to dine with my sister. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. She recognized the face but could not quite place it. Oh, it was very bad. “There have been other times,” he said a little sadly. Here I am as an alternative either to nasty work—or going home. I keep my finger on the pulse of things. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 22-09-2024 16:27:27
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