Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"It is illiterate writing, certainly; and the whole concern dilapidated to the last degree," goes on Rodney, still regarding the soiled paper with curiosity mingled with aversion. "Any objection to my putting it in the fire?" She is perhaps as near being angry with Geoffrey as she can be when one day he pooh-poohs this charitable thought and gives it as his belief that worry had nothing to do with it, and that his mother behaved uncommonly badly all through, and that sheer obstinacy and bad temper was the cause of the whole matter. "Put it on you," says Geoffrey..
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
“My boy, you have done a wonderful thing!” he said when Billy had finished. “You must come with me and tell your story again. If it comes out as I think, you’ll earn at least a thousand dollars.”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
“But she’s a girl.”
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
"By Jove, you know, it is odd," says Geoffrey, presently, speaking as one might who has for long been following out a train of thought by no means unpleasant, "his sending for her, and that: there must be something in it. Rodney didn't write to her for nothing. It must have been to——" Here he checks himself abruptly, remembering his promise to Mona to say nothing about the scene in the library. "It certainly means something," he winds up, a little tamely. But the fort, on this evening at least, is never reached Mona, coming to a stile, seats himself comfortably on the top of it, and looks with mild content around. "No, I haven't, if that's romance. Of course there was nothing for it but to shut my eyes again and resign myself to my fate. I wonder I'm not dead," says Nolly, pathetically. "I never put in such a time in my life. Well, another quarter of an hour went by, and then I cautiously opened my eyes and looked again, and—would you believe it?"—indignantly,—"there they were still!" "Of the last time I heard any one sing," returns he, slowly. "I was comparing that singer very unfavorably with you. Your voice is so unlike what one usually hears in drawing-rooms.".
298 people found this
review helpful