"True," replied Wild. She cried and sobbed in fits. She found no ready reply to that, and he went on: “This music is the food of
love. I’ve got imagination. To—to find myself. ”
He smiled, and she felt love for him in that moment as
the smile lit up his ebony eyes, eyes whose blackness
seemed unfathomable. She had decided that she would spend the next morning
answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and
so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. The eyes, too,
though large and bright, and shaded by long lashes, seemed to betoken, as hazel
eyes generally do in men, a faithless and uncertain disposition. She laughed. Some day, when the rewards of literature permit the arduous research
required, the Campaign of the Women will find its Carlyle, and the particulars of
that marvellous series of exploits by which Miss Brett and her colleagues nagged
the whole Western world into the discussion of women’s position become the
material for the most delightful and amazing descriptions.
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This video was uploaded to gofishfortlauderdale.com on 06-07-2024 16:30:33