"How is Mr. “I might have muddled for a time. Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. Ramage demurred. The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. His feet would have the firm texture of his hands. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately. Her impressions of this cardinal ceremony were rich and confused, complicated by a quite transitory passion that awakened no reciprocal fire for a fat curly headed cousin in black velveteen and a lace collar, who assisted as a page. Now tell them why. Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. ” She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could not see her face.
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This video was uploaded to southwestbyways.info on 20-09-2024 23:13:27
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