He taught her how to read and write in Latin and Greek, often rewarding her for her efforts with a flower or a trinket. “So long as you learn,” said Mr. She had been so busy with life that, for a vast gulf of time, as it seemed, she had given no thought to those ancient, imagined things of her childhood. “She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away. “I am going through the other rooms. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. If you don’t eat humble-pie now you may live to fare worse later. “Dear me,” she said, “I fancy you exaggerate my fame. That wrappered life, as you call it—we’ve burned the confounded rags! Danced out of it! We’re stark!” “Stark!” echoed Ann Veronica.
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