Part 3
Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a
lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three,
with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses,
and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. His business
has thriven; legacies have unexpectedly dropped into his lap; and, to crown all,
he has made a large fortune by a lucky speculation in South-Sea stock,—made it,
too, where so many others have lost fortunes, your humble servant amongst the
number—ha! ha! In a word, Sir, Mr. Anna sprang lightly away across the street. We were
talking about the suffrage—and I rather scoffed. But I'd a
mind to try whether you really loved him as much as you pretended. There indeed you see Monte Rosa. Blue haze had settled beyond the
black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet
that began the night sky. Fifty sent home.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMS4yMjkuOTIgLSAwOS0wNy0yMDI0IDAxOjE3OjM0IC0gMzIwNzc5MDY=
This video was uploaded to golfrealestateonline.com on 05-07-2024 21:23:56