He returned, “Lucy, you knew I didn’t live anywhere
near you?”
“I was aware. It’s the public
entrance. “Oh dear, I’m not dressed. He still watched her and questioned her. His features
were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little
shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy
contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of
substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own
dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that
distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which
we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. You would rather live like the scum
of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in
bourgeois paradise.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 28-06-2024 03:39:53