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188𲩹Ƕ:װ޶ӣˣǼӵ

2020-08-10 11:34:41  Դձ
188𲩹Ƕٿ 

188𲩹Ƕ٣

188𲩹Ƕַ:a g 9 559 v i p<"My mamma!" said Sara, looking odd. "I don't believe she would mind in the least. She knows that stories belong to everybody."She pointed toward the table under the skylight. Sara had not looked toward it as she came in. A number of books were piled upon it. Ermengarde's gesture was a dejected one.

Then Sara was guilty of an injustice. Just at that moment her torn heart swelled within her, and she felt that if anyone was as stupid as that, one had better get away from her.

188𲩹Ƕ٣廭

Miss Minchin waved her hand again--this time it was in the direction of the corner near the door.

He had made wonderful preparations for her birthday. Among other things, a new doll had been ordered in Paris, and her wardrobe was to be, indeed, a marvel of splendid perfection. When she had replied to the letter asking her if the doll would be an acceptable present, Sara had been very quaint.

"It's a lonely place," she said. "Sometimes it's the loneliest place in the world."

188𲩹Ƕ٣ ɻ

"Go and tell her to take off that preposterous pink silk gauze, and put the black one on, whether it is too short or not. She has done with finery!"<"She's growing so fast and learning such a lot, somehow," said Jessie to Lavinia, "that she will be given classes soon, and Miss Minchin knows she will have to work for nothing. It was rather nasty of you, Lavvy, to tell about her having fun in the garret. How did you find it out?"

But the owner of the smudgy face and the wide-open eyes evidently was afraid that she ought not to have been caught looking at pupils of importance. She dodged out of sight like a jack-in-the-box and scurried back into the kitchen, disappearing so suddenly that if she had not been such a poor little forlorn thing, Sara would have laughed in spite of herself. That very evening, as Sara was sitting in the midst of a group of listeners in a corner of the schoolroom telling one of her stories, the very same figure timidly entered the room, carrying a coal box much too heavy for her, and knelt down upon the hearth rug to replenish the fire and sweep up the ashes.

188𲩹Ƕ٣йҶ ۻ

"I--haven't--any--ma--ma--ma-a!" she announced; but her voice was not so strong.

When Sara had persuaded her to go downstairs again, and, after setting her on her way, had come back to her attic, she stood in the middle of it and looked about her. The enchantment of her imaginings for Lottie had died away. The bed was hard and covered with its dingy quilt. The whitewashed wall showed its broken patches, the floor was cold and bare, the grate was broken and rusty, and the battered footstool, tilted sideways on its injured leg, the only seat in the room. She sat down on it for a few minutes and let her head drop in her hands. The mere fact that Lottie had come and gone away again made things seem a little worse-- just as perhaps prisoners feel a little more desolate after visitors come and go, leaving them behind.

Lavinia tossed her head with great elegance.

188𲩹Ƕ٣ͻ

"When Monsieur Dufarge comes," she thought, "I can make him understand."

ƷͼƬ188𲩹Ƕ٣

(ࣺӱӱ)

188𲩹Ƕר

188𲩹ǶƼĶ

188𲩹ǶζΰʹóͽĶȣʦͽ߶ Something she saw in Sara's grave, fixed gaze at this moment made her turn on her fiercely. ϸ

ذ˼Ħˮƿ˫徫| ̵2018|Լ衰DZ

188𲩹Ƕý۾һͶƱվ4͵ ׷Դ "Oh, Sara!" she exclaimed, endeavoring to produce a suitable smile. ϸ

188𲩹Ƕ׼ҪȺμȺ 仯ô˵| ̵2018|˼"ծ"̸:Ǯںϣ
188𲩹Ƕ÷մǴĻע188𲩹Ƕ΢

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