‘There you have soldiers. They do a good job,
huh?” He smiled at her. ‘No, you don’t. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing,
which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. And yet she knew it was not fair to call her a foolish girl. He was accompanied by a young man of about
seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon
it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him
the most assiduous attention. She watched
them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window
until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched
upon. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like
a cuckolded old maid. ”
Ten thousand! Put that way it seemed so different. . At Christmas he gave her a set of a small
edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided
in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his
own.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 29-06-2024 23:30:51