Ponedeljak, Januar 17, 2011

the senses. Mrs.

the senses. Mrs. Swiggs hesitates in the doorway. Shall i advance, or retreat to more congenial quarters. She asks herself. The wily hackdriver he agreed for four and charged her twelve shillings leaves her black box on the step and drives away. She may be thankful he did not charge her twenty. They make no allowance for distinguished people lady swiggs learns this fact, to her great annoyance. To the muchconfused maid of all work she commences relating the loss of her luggage. With one hand swinging the door and the other tucked under her dowdy apron, she says, troth, mam, and ye ought to be thankful, for the like of thats done every day.

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