“I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. ‘It is not your affair. I’m in a mess—a nasty mess! a filthy mess! Oh, no end of a mess! “Do you hear, Ann Veronica?—you’re in a nasty, filthy, unforgivable mess! “Haven’t I just made a silly mess of things? “Forty pounds! I haven’t got twenty!” She got up, stamped with her foot, and then, suddenly remembering the lodger below, sat down and wrenched off her boots. When my father died, and we were left alone in Jersey, I was quite a long time deciding whether I would go in for singing professionally or try painting. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones.
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This video was uploaded to twincitieshomes.info on 19-09-2024 03:37:50
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