Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
Betty picked him a small bouquet. She knew that in the child’s hot grasp the flowers would soon droop and she loved them so dearly that she grieved to see them wither and die. St. Elmo, however, was not satisfied. “Yet let him sleep downstairs,” Edith persisted. He sat by the table in his dressing-room with angry storm-swept countenance. He had been capturing loud plaudits with his rag-time, until intoxicated with success, he swept into a tornado of music by Moskowski. The applause died away; two ladies in the front row began chatting. The enraged artist jumped from the piano-stool, and shouting “Pigs!” raced from the platform..
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"And what did you do?" asked Jen, much interested in this strange history.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
"They put it into a cart and took it away."
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
“Avaunt, hesitating noddy! The angel child is quite safe!” Bess waved an arm, partly bare and brown in spots. Mrs. Wopp’s face assumed a forgiving air as she accepted this defence. Then began that portion of the story that leads up to the tragic culmination. It may be that atmospheric changes helped to cause the disquiet, for in the midst of an exciting account of a fairy dancing on a moonbeam, a sudden shower descended on the barn and began to pour in a stream through a hole in the roof, immediately over Moses’ head. “I don’t give two whoops ef he does,” Betty was bubbling with suppressed mirth..
298 people found this
review helpful