Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"Let me go, Mona," says Geoffrey, forcing her arms from round him and almost flinging her to one side. It is the first and last time he ever treats a woman with roughness. "Worse!" repeats his mother, in a withering tone. In this mood she is not nice, and a very little of her suffices. "And what color becomes you? Blue? that would suit your eyes, and it was blue you used to wear last month.".
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
They had now to dread the effect of that tender anxiety, which had excited his resentment; and Julia, suddenly elated to joy by his first determination, was as suddenly sunk to despair by his last. She trembled with apprehension of the coming interview, though each moment of delay which her fear solicited, would, by heightening the resentment of the Abate, only increase the danger she dreaded.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
“Of course. I just put them in here to keep.”
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
"Thief!" interrupts Rodney, repeating the vile word again, as though deaf to everything but this degrading accusation. Then there is a faint pause, and then—— Here and there a pack is discovered, so unexpectedly as to be doubly welcome. And sometimes a friendly native will tell him of some quiet corner where "his honor" will surely find some birds, "an be able in the evenin' to show raison for his blazin'." It is a somewhat wild life, but a pleasant one, and perhaps, on the whole, Mr. Rodney finds Ireland an agreeable take-in, and the inhabitants of it by no means as eccentric or as bloodthirsty as he has been led to believe. He has read innumerable works on the Irish peasantry, calculated to raise laughter in the breasts of those who claim the Emerald Isle as their own,—works written by people who have never seen Ireland, or, having seen it, have thought it a pity to destroy the glamour time has thrown over it, and so reduce it to commonplaceness. The man draws back hurriedly, and the woman once more sinks back into her forlorn position. "May I go with you?" asks he, anxiously. "These are lawless times, and I dare say Maloney's cabin will be full of roughs. You will feel happier with some man beside you whom you can trust.".
298 people found this
review helpful