To-night all London believes that he was your husband. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 04-07-2024 16:28:03
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