" The girl's eyes filled. "Always remember the fact. They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred. ” He nodded. "Of course," rejoined the bystander, who had just spoken, and who was of a cynical turn,—"the greater the rascal, the better they like him. Widgett was a journalist and art critic, addicted to a greenish-gray tweed suit and “art” brown ties; he smoked corncob pipes in the Avenue on Sunday morning, travelled third class to London by unusual trains, and openly despised golf. And it had not shocked her! It was this appalling absence of indignation that had put terror into her heart. The Malays have one, too, but it's a rank imitation, tom-toms and all. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. You’ve got me.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 01-07-2024 10:00:05
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