There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. “And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs. ‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms. Startled by this circumstance, he looked around, and perceived that the trap-door,—which has been mentioned as communicating with a secret staircase,—was open. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. “For me,” Manning went on, “this isn’t final. Here it is. Had Valade been to see him? Possibly even yesterday when he was followed by some young lad—and the girl, of course.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 19-09-2024 04:41:41
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