Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"Very," returns he, surprised. He has not thought of her as one versed in lore of any kind. "What poets do you prefer?" "Still, sometimes, you know, it is awkward to adhere to the very letter of the law," says Jack Rodney, easily. "Is there no compromise? I have heard of women who have made a point of running into the kitchen-garden when unwelcome visitors were announced, and so saved themselves and their principles. Couldn't Mona do that?" "Do you mean that you would really miss me if I left you for only one day?" he asks, delightedly. "Mona, tell me the truth.".
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
🌟 Unleash the Rummy VIP Weekly Bonus Excitement!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
🌟 Join our awakened community for a transformative awakening experience.
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
"You will come first and see Philippa?" she says, in a slow peculiar tone that sounds as if it had been dug up and is quite an antique in its own way. It savors of dust and feudal days. Every one says he or she will be delighted, and all try to look as if the entire hope of their existence is centred in the thought that they shall soon lay longing eyes on Philippa,—whose name in reality is Anne, but who has been rechristened by her enterprising sister. Anne is all very well for everyday life, or for Bluebeard's sister-in-law; but Philippa is art of the very highest description. So Philippa she is, poor soul, whether she likes it or not. "Perhaps that is what makes me so nice," retorts Miss Mona, saucily, the sense of fun still full upon her, making him a small grimace, and bestowing upon him a bewitching glance from under her long dark lashes, that lie like shadows on her cheeks. "Well, she did. I don't remember about that, you know. I was quite a little chap, and hustled out of sight if I said 'boo.' But of course she's got over all that, and is as jolly as a sand-boy now," says Geoffrey, gayly. (If only Lady Rodney could have heard him comparing her to a "sand-boy"!) He went down and stamped on the log-jam, and presently a fat cow ran out and Kŭt-o-yĭs´ killed it..
298 people found this
review helpful