Part 3
Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a
lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three,
with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses,
and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. One or
two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with
rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened
for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other,
would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. Lucy vomited onto the floor at the sight of her mother
dying, the black spots expanding across her corpse. But I shall lose my
wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. ’
‘But what do you want it for, miss?’
‘But to protect myself. That’s why we are here. With this view, he
suffered him to pass on. . The fanatic has no such word in his vocabulary. 'Slife! you are wonderfully altered.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 04-07-2024 08:19:00