The open windows were above them now and, unless the intruder were to lean out, they could not possibly be seen. Solomon Smith, chapmen, (or what in modern vulgar parlance would be termed bagmen) travelling to procure orders for the house of an eminent cloth manufacturer in Manchester. " "Are they good?" "He can write; but he hasn't found anything real to write about. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. “Kindly explain it to me. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. " "She is a matchless creature!" exclaimed the young man. "Where did you learn the song I heard just now?" he demanded, in an authoritative tone. He had scarcely completed his toilet, when he was startled by a noise at the door, and heard his own name pronounced in no friendly accents. You go to your room and ring for your maid. From the unlovely hillside his glance strayed to the several five-story towers of the pawnshops. “We don’t let to ladies,” they said. ‘You speak as if you expected to meet her again, Gerald. Ramage, by a hundred skilful hints had led her to realize that the problem of her own life was inseparably associated with, and indeed only one special case of, the problems of any woman’s life, and that the problem of a woman’s life is love.
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