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类型【址:a g 9 559⒐ v i p】1:筱山纪信 大小:kGlW8pVH79289KB 下载:eHzNhobi43988次
版本:v57705 系统:Android3.8.x以上 好评:Z4U9Oj8977013条
日期:2020-08-06 01:28:52
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1.【址:a g 9 559⒐ v i p】1  `Very good, your Ladyship. I will see to it at once.'
2.  `May I come?'
3.  `No, it's man that poisons the universe,' she asserted.
4.  `Oh, I don't think it's hardly my place. I don't think Sir Clifford would like it at all, my Lady.'
5.  She listened with a dim kind of amazement.
6.  Connie and Clifford had now been nearly two years at Wragby, living their vague life of absorption in Clifford and his work. Their interests had never ceased to flow together over his work. They talked and wrestled in the throes of composition, and felt as if something were happening, really happening, really in the void.

计划指导

1.  `I'm afraid I can't.'
2.  `But I do live my life, don't I?'
3.  `I don't see why not,' said Connie.
4.  `Yes!' she said, `he might have another. Otherwise we could have one made from the one you have. It would only take a day or so, I suppose. You could spare your key for so long.'
5.  `More or less! He has a mother in the village...and a child, I believe.'
6.  `But you've been here some time, haven't you?' Connie said to him.

推荐功能

1.  As between the two men, Michaelis really had far more use for her than Clifford had. He had even more need of her. Any good nurse can attend to crippled legs! And as for the heroic effort, Michaelis was a heroic rat, and Clifford was very much of a poodle showing off.
2.  `Maybe it does...and too little of you goes that way, Hammond, my boy, married or not. You can keep the purity and integrity of your mind, but it's going damned dry. Your pure mind is going as dry as fiddlesticks, from what I see of it. You're simply talking it down.'
3.  `Jolly good thing too!' she said. `Then a woman can live her own life.' Strangeways wanted children, and she didn't.
4.  So next morning Mick was more uneasy than ever; restless, devoured, with his hands restless in his trousers pockets. Connie had not visited him in the night...and he had not known where to find her. Coquetry!...at his moment of triumph.
5.   `No,' said Hammond. `It's wrong. You, for example, May, you squander half your force with women. You'll never really do what you should do, with a fine mind such as yours. Too much of it goes the other way.'
6.  `Very much! And you see there's no question of kissing between us, is there?'

应用

1.  She listened to the tapping of the man's hammer; it was not so happy. He was oppressed. Here was a trespass on his privacy, and a dangerous one! A woman! He had reached the point where all he wanted on earth was to be alone. And yet he was powerless to preserve his privacy; he was a hired man, and these people were his masters.
2.  `Yes, a duplicate,' she said, flushing.
3.  He spoke it almost in a brilliancy of triumph, and Connie looked at him as if dazzled, and really feeling nothing at all. Hardly even the surface of her mind was tickled at the glowing prospects he offered her. Hardly even her most outside self responded, that at any other time would have been thrilled. She just got no feeling from it, she couldn't `go off'. She just sat and stared and looked dazzled, and felt nothing, only somewhere she smelt the extraordinarily unpleasant smell of the bitch-goddess.
4、  Anyhow everything was terribly silly, and she was exasperatedly bored by it all, by Clifford, by Aunt Eva, by Olive and Jack, and Winterslow, and even by Dukes. Talk, talk, talk! What hell it was, the continual rattle of it!
5、  The chair puffed on. In the hazel copse catkins were hanging pale gold, and in sunny places the wood-anemones were wide open, as if exclaiming with the joy of life, just as good as in past days, when people could exclaim along with them. They had a faint scent of apple-blossom. Connie gathered a few for Clifford.

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网友评论(Jbu13yzi34595))

  • 布里 08-05

      `I suppose I may as well stay the night,' said Hilda, pulling off her gloves, `and I'll drive her to town tomorrow.'

  • 格拉汉姆 08-05

      It was just restlessness. She would rush off across the park, abandon Clifford, and lie prone in the bracken. To get away from the house...she must get away from the house and everybody. The work was her one refuge, her sanctuary.

  • 于萍 08-05

       `And should you expect me to tell you?' she asked, glancing up at him almost furtively.

  • 弗拉基米尔·季托夫 08-05

      `Oh!' she said in repulsion.

  • 亚哈拉多库西多 08-04

    {  Connie looked, and there, sure enough, was a big black cat, stretched out grimly, with a bit of blood on it.

  • 张希贤 08-03

      So she sauntered slowly back, listening. As she came near, the cottage looked just the same. A dog barked, and she knocked at the door, her heart beating in spite of herself.}

  • 茜尔维 08-03

      `He was. But his wife went off with...with various men...but finally with a collier at Stacks Gate, and I believe she's living there still.'

  • 李小军 08-03

      `There, exactly!' he said, turning to her in a sudden flash. `There's nothing in it! There's nothing in popularity. There's nothing in the public, if it comes to that. There's nothing really in my plays to make them popular. It's not that. They just are like the weather...the sort that will have to be...for the time being.'

  • 马尼山 08-02

       The rain was abating. It was hardly making darkness among the oaks any more. Connie wanted to go; yet she sat on. But she was getting cold; yet the overwhelming inertia of her inner resentment kept her there as if paralysed.

  • 李伟丰 07-31

    {  Chapter 3

  • 王永红 07-31

      Connie was accustomed to Kensington or the Scotch hills or the Sussex downs: that was her England. With the stoicism of the young she took in the utter, soulless ugliness of the coal-and-iron Midlands at a glance, and left it at what it was: unbelievable and not to be thought about. From the rather dismal rooms at Wragby she heard the rattle-rattle of the screens at the pit, the puff of the winding-engine, the clink-clink of shunting trucks, and the hoarse little whistle of the colliery locomotives. Tevershall pit-bank was burning, had been burning for years, and it would cost thousands to put it out. So it had to burn. And when the wind was that way, which was often, the house was full of the stench of this sulphurous combustion of the earth's excrement. But even on windless days the air always smelt of something under-earth: sulphur, iron, coal, or acid. And even on the Christmas roses the smuts settled persistently, incredible, like black manna from the skies of doom.

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