"
"What kind?"
"Dickens, Hugo. "
O'Higgins produced his wallet. There were dark
rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. Fire; she was full of it. Taken altogether, his physiognomy resembled
one of those vagabond heads which Murillo delighted to paint, and for which
Guzman d'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, or Estevanillo Gonzalez might have
sat:—faces that almost make one in love with roguery, they seem so full of
vivacity and enjoyment. ”
Her elation teetered in mid-air for a second, then
began to flutter down around her like a badly-built house
of cards. He gave her
silence in return. ‘Just what I was going to tell you, miss. Later, she
understood his reasons; and it had now become habit.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 09-07-2024 15:15:30