Schoolgirl. "Where did you get this from?" asked Wild, greatly surprised at the result of his
investigation. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to
Ruth, my dreams. It wasn’t. “What’s odd?”
“Oh, everything!”
She shivered, and went to the fire and poked it. She would come back and write letters,
carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from
Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and
think. Not the most stringent search, conducted all
morning, turned up one solitary sheet. She
lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry
sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she
imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s
Park.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 04-07-2024 02:30:06