It was neither good nor bad. Manning’s feelings, and
as Ann Veronica’s mind was still largely engaged with fundamentals and found
no pleasure in metrical forms, she had not as yet cut its pages. My goodness gracious. “There is someone in my rooms,” Anna said. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered
papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. And it filled seven sheets of
notepaper, each written only on one side. Plain, wide-mouthed, freckled, and
ugly, she was an instantly jealous creature, her saving
grace that she took no pains to mask her extreme dislike
47
of petite, pretty girls. “Forgive me,” he said. Then
Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face. Every now and then
something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled
him.
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This video was uploaded to kooplokaalmontferland.info on 21-07-2024 22:42:06