What a fool I was to separate the two in my mind. The morning of Monday the 16th of November 1724 at length dawned. "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, in a tone of the bitterest anguish. Constance Widgett’s abundant copper-red hair was bent down over some dimly remunerative work—stencilling in colors upon rough, white material—at a kitchen table she had dragged up-stairs for the purpose, while on her bed there was seated a slender lady of thirty or so in a dingy green dress, whom Constance had introduced with a wave of her hand as Miss Miniver. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. "I don't know his name. But she did not speak. We must wave our hands at the blue hills far away there and go back to London and work. A nine days’ wonder is soon forgotten. I simply warn you.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ3LjEwMy4zIC0gMjQtMTAtMjAyNCAxNjozMjoyMiAtIDkwNDg2Njc5MA==
This video was uploaded to betosfer.xyz on 24-10-2024 12:32:24
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10 - Ref11 - Ref12 - Ref13