Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"Thank ye, miss. Ye mane it kindly, I know," says the woman, wearily. "But the big world is too small to hold one dhrop of comfort for me. He's dead, ye see!" "I am so glad you have come, darling," says little Dorothy, taking off her hat, and laying it on a chair near her. "I know," says Mona, sadly..
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
New players, grab your chance to win big with our special offer: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
New to All India Bet? Don't miss out on our special offer just for you:
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
Mona, though still angered, is yet somewhat softened by this speech, as might any woman. Her color fades again, and heavy tears, rising rapidly, quench the fire that only a moment since made her large eyes dark and passionate. Altogether, things are very disappointing; though perhaps there is comfort in the thought that no one is waiting round a corner, or lying perdu in a ditch, ready to smash the first comer with a blackthorn stick, or reduce him to submission with a pike, irrespective of cause or reason. "You are Sir Nicholas?" questions she at last, gaining courage to speak, and raising her eyes to his full of entreaty, and just a touch of that pathos that seems of right to belong to the eyes of all Irishwomen. "What is amusing you?" asks he, a trifle stiffly.—To give way to recitation, and then find your listener in agonies of suppressed mirth, isn't exactly a situation one would hanker after..
298 people found this
review helpful