վҳʱ ƾ̨ ۵ Ļ Ƶ֪ʶȨ

۱:·ϵġŹ񡱣ɽҪһ

2020-08-11 09:23:23  Դձ
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۱ַ:a g 9 559 v i p<"Wednesday. We'll go, won't we?"The man looked at him and saw that he was deathly pale.

"You ought to have a piano here, Drouet," said Hurstwood, smilingat Carrie, on the evening in question, "so that your wife couldplay."

۱أ廭

"Will you marry me?" she asked, forgetting how.

She turned slowly toward the audience without seeing. There wasso much simplicity in her movements that she seemed wholly alone.Then she found a seat by a table, and turned over some books,devoting a thought to them.

"Where are you going, Carrie?" he asked.

۱أ ɻ

"Oh, I don't know," returned Hurstwood. "He's got the money, allright," and a little twinkle passed over his eyes.

"You want to send her her part?" asked the drummer.

۱أйҶ ۻ

The barkeeper was setting out the glasses and bottle before them,and they now poured out the draught as they talked, Drouetfilling his to within a third of full, as was considered proper,and Hurstwood taking the barest suggestion of whiskey andmodifying it with seltzer.

"Say, she was a little dandy, I tell you," went on Drouetconfidentially, and trying to impress his friend.

<"I thought I did," he said."I'd get about fourteen hundred a year out of that."

Hurstwood heard this, dead to the horror of it. He rocked alittle to and fro, and chewed at his finger. It seemed all verynatural in such extreme states. He would do better later on.

۱أͻ

"You'll feel better when we reach Montreal," he said.

ƷͼƬԾ۱أ

(ࣺӱӱ)

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۱Ī˹人ɽҽԺƽȫ "I am, that is, do you--I mean, do you need any help?" shestammered. ϸ

ɫ ɲص| ̵2018|Ƹʵ˿ڳйܿأÿͥÿ21Ͻֲɹ

۱ձҲ漱Ҫֹ Carrie resented this, though she did not reply. She was notgoing to be a common shop-girl, she thought; they need not thinkit, either. ϸ

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