Unmarked6698
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"It is a pity anything should be said against Ireland," says Rodney, cleverly; "it is such a lovely little spot." "Nay, you can say all that on your way back, an' get a half-shot into the bargain," says old Scully, heartily. "You'll hardly beat the potheen I can give ye." He winks knowingly, pats Rodney kindly on the shoulder, and leads the way out of the house. Yet I think Geoffrey would willingly have bartered potheen, partridge, and a good deal more, for just one last glance at Mona's beautiful face before parting. Cheered, however, by the prospect that he may see her before night falls, he follows the farmer into the open air. "I am glad you know that," says Mona. Then, going nearer to Violet, she lays her hand upon her arm and regards her earnestly. The tears are still glistening in her eyes..
453 people found this
review helpful
kez_ h (Kez_h)
- Flag inappropriate
- Show review history
"So after ten years Alfred Bennett is coming back to offer his bachelor's-buttons to you, Mrs. Molly?" he said in the voice he always uses when he makes fun of Billy and me, and which never fails to make us both mad.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
"Dinner, one small lean chop, slice of toast, spinach or lettuce salad. No dessert or sweet." My poultry-yard is full of fat little chickens, and I wish I were a sheep if I have to eat lettuce and spinach for grass. At least I'd have more than one chop inside me then.
658 people found this
review helpful
Conrad
"Yes. You may bring it to me—to-morrow," returns she, with the faintest hesitation, which but enhances the value of the permission, whereon his heart once more knows hope and content. "He is our landlord," says Mona, calmly, but with uplifted brows, stopping short in the middle of the road to regard him with astonishment. "Down below in the hollow, miss,—jist behind the hawthorn-bush. Go home some other way, Miss Mona: they're bint on blood." The reproach is terrible, and cuts him to the heart. He picks up the poor little bruised flower, and holds it tenderly in his hand..
298 people found this
review helpful