Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
Through the Stygian darkness of the loft loomed the figure of Mrs. Wopp, a white apron of huge dimensions indicating her presence. She made as though to descend the ladder. “None too strong. But she’s picking up since the doctor gave her a tonic,” was the reply. “An’ was the pore little feller lookin’ fer Joner?” said Mrs. Wopp. She spoke pityingly, yet she could not avoid some slight feeling of satisfaction over this evident tribute to her powers of biblical narrative..
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
A moment later Mr. Whitney was beside him, an expression on his face which the boy could not fathom. It was a stern look yet there was a twinkle in the kind eyes. His first words were ominous.I tried logging in using my phone number and I
was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't
get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call
me instead" option twice but didn't get a call
either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call
me instead fails.There was
“You are all I’ve got, son,” was the quiet reply. “I must let you do the best you can for yourself.”
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
As the party, now restored to composure, left the garden, Mrs. Mifsud remarked with her usual aptness, “I occasionally experience premonitions, Mrs. Wopp, that St. Elmo will some day attain celebrity as a clairvoyant.” “As the door creaketh on his hinges, so the slugger turneth on his bed.” Liza Wopp’s voice was compelling in its significance. Through the rose-lit dreams of Moses, the sound and the awful words were like the threatenings of an approaching storm. “Yeh, Mar.” The boy was very still for a little, but burst out presently: “I’m going to work, mother; as soon as school closes I’ll start.”.
298 people found this
review helpful