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There was a short, red-faced,
resolute youth who inherited an authoritative attitude upon bacteriology from his
father; a Japanese student of unassuming manners who drew beautifully and had
an imperfect knowledge of English; and a dark, unwashed Scotchman with
complicated spectacles, who would come every morning as a sort of volunteer
supplementary demonstrator, look very closely at her work and her, tell her that
her dissections were “fairish,” or “very fairish indeed,” or “high above the
normal female standard,” hover as if for some outbreak of passionate gratitude
and with admiring retrospects that made the facetted spectacles gleam like
diamonds, return to his own place. And he unsheathed his sword. Chapter XXX
SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE
Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing
letters. She was tired, hungry—and thus
somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. ”
“How?”
“Well—a little clumsily. I had dreamt of the olive
grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated
198
with as a boy.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 01-07-2024 22:30:08