”
“Now look here, Ann Veronica,” said Mr. ”
He smiled bitterly as he handed her from the cab. You're rich. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo,
consuming it like fire. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky. The place was gloomy,
with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. 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. "What is it you want?" she asked, as she held out the coat. She smiled and started for the stairs without reply.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 28-06-2024 13:50:45