"
"Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. ‘Never. And that confounded
engagement!”
“Gone!”
They came upon a platform, and stood before her compartment. ‘Of course. ”
“I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our
lot. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous
undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that
summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy
annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as
preoccupied with them. Besides the table close by loaded
with books, there was a central table with upright chairs around, covered in a
multitude of papers, inks and quills, and assorted unrelated items such as playing
cards.
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This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 07-07-2024 21:37:53