Women, she had been taught, who exposed the flesh
of their bodies under the eyes of man were in a special catagory of the damned. “Do you like my dress?”
“Yes, the dress is beautiful, but you are much more
beautiful than any dress. The Widgett mental
furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised,
fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. "
"Don't say anything about it, dear Mrs. "
"My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the
woollen-draper. He's nice. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although
she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself
fragments of an old French song. “Dear old Daddy,” she said, “he’ll make a fearful fuss. Ann Veronica sat back in an attitude of inattention, her eyes on
a distant game of cricket, her mind perplexed and busy. ’
‘Your husband?’ Gerald tutted. I'll think no
more about her. “I believe that you are right,” he said softly.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 24-06-2024 20:12:36