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One day I can be a Gothic chick,
and the next day I’ll be Hitler Youth. There was something about their
greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. Jonathan caught her in his arms. The tears were streaming down her face, her
voice was thick with sobs. She was amazed that at over sixhundred years old that she could miss her parents so
bitterly. ’
‘Pah! How can it be romantic? That is silly. You say that this
gentleman was with you?”
“I was,” Brendon answered, “most providentially. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. Why? While the
front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of
underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as
much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back
chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?”
His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some
secret or forbidden or impossible lover. At times he seemed to be claiming
pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at
times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got
what he wanted.
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This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 30-06-2024 12:37:09