Brown engaged in the
usual browbeating and complaining he reserved for
sections who came in late and soloists who left tempo
behind like the leftovers of a Sunday picnic. “To tell you the truth though, I am quite a stranger in
London, and it occurred to me that Mr. I’d rather not go,” she added. You don’t happen to know of any one, I
suppose, who wants a nursery governess, or a clerk—without shorthand—or a
tryer-on, or a copyist, or——”
“For Heaven’s sake stop, Miss Pellissier,” he interrupted. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our
importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that
we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a
dream. ’
She fairly pushed at Gerald, who grinned and gave in, moving back to the still
open door. She had followed a bobbing white hat and gray jacket until she reached the
Euston Road corner of Tottenham Court Road, and there, by the name on a bus
and the cries of a conductor, she made a guess of her way. "I can't say," answered the fellow; "but I'll inquire from the sexton, William
Morgan. 207
She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times,
having long since forgotten his name. She brought the unconscious man down.
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This video was uploaded to annonces-rdc.com on 03-07-2024 14:56:25