A year hence it will be forgotten.
“I am glad, Nanny,” says Mrs Miller, “the gentleman hath made the observation; I protest I am almost of his opinion. What can be the matter with you, child? I never saw such an alteration. What is become of all your gaiety? Would you think, sir, I used to call her my little prattler? She hath not spoke twenty words this week.”
I curl at my local club every weekend.
Several hours of voracious reading become preludes to joyous hours spent at table devouring Ernestine-Françoise's succulent chickens, roastbeefs, asparagus, chocolate creams, or his favorite dessert, strawberries crushed in cream cheese.
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