Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"Oh, no; because if you can sing at all—that is correctly, and without false notes—you must feel music and love it." Mr. Rodney, basely forsaking the donkey, returns to his mutton. "There must be a dressmaker in Dublin," he says, "and we could write to her. Don't you know one?" "Well, but, after all, one can't be much of a friend if one can't sacrifice one's self sometimes for those one loves," says Mrs. Geoffrey, reproachfully. "You would have done it yourself in my place!".
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
“Here I stand upon this stageI 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
“I’ll lick you good and plenty,” answered the man, his face purple with indignation. Whereupon Moses, overcome utterly with mirth, lost his own balance and rubbed his freckled nose along a shining streak of slippery pavement.
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
"But I shouldn't like any one to touch it except you," says Mr. Rodney, truthfully. "Even now, as your fingers press it, I feel relief." "But you said you knew the entire locality,—couldn't be puzzled within a radius of thirty miles. How far are we from home?" Miss Mona looks puzzled. "Pray for me!" says he, in a low tone, pressing her hand. So on her knees, in a subdued voice, sad but earnest, she repeats what prayers she can remember out of the grand Service that belongs to us. One or two sentences from the Litany come to her; and then some words rise from her own heart, and she puts up a passionate supplication to heaven that the passing soul beside her, however erring, may reach some haven where rest remaineth!.
298 people found this
review helpful