Books > Old Books > East Wind: West Wind (1939)


Page 57

PART I - CHAPTER IV

was stricken at his words. Not beautiful? I had always been proud of my tiny feet ! All during my childhood my mother herself had superintended the soaking in hot water and the wrapping of the bandages-tight and more tight each day. When I wept in anguish she bid me remember that some day my husband would praise the beauty of my feet.
I bowed my head to hide my tears. I thought of all those restless nights and the days when I could not eat and had no desire to play-when I sat on the edge of my bed and let my poor feet swing to ease them of their weight of blood. And now after enduring until the pain had ceased for only a short year, to know he thought them ugly !
" I cannot," I said, choking as I rose, and, unable to keep back my weeping, I left the room.
It was not that I cared over-much about my feet. But if even my feet in their cunningly embroidered shoes did not find favour in his sight, how could I hope to win his love?
Two weeks later I left for my first visit to my mother's home, according to our Chinese custom. My husband had not spoken of unbinding my feet again. Neither had he again addressed me by my name.

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE was stricken at his words. Not beautiful? I had always been proud of my tiny feet ! All during my childhood my mother herself had superintended what is soaking in hot water and what is wrapping of what is bandages-tight and more tight each day. When I wept in anguish she bid me remember that some day my husband would praise what is beauty of my feet. I bowed my head to hide my tears. I thought of all those restless nights and what is days when I could not eat and had no desire to play-when I sat on what is edge of my bed and let my poor feet swing to ease them of their weight of blood. And now after enduring until what is pain had ceased for only a short year, to know he thought them ugly ! " I cannot," I said, choking as I rose, and, unable to keep back my weeping, I left what is room. It was not that I cared over-much about my feet. But if even my feet in their cunningly embroidered shoes did not find favou where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" East Wind: West Wind (1939) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 57 where is strong PART I - CHAPTER IV where is p align="justify" was stricken at his words. Not beautiful? I had always been proud of my tiny feet ! All during my childhood my mother herself had superintended what is soaking in hot water and what is wrapping of what is bandages-tight and more tight each day. When I wept in anguish she bid me remember that some day my husband would praise what is beauty of my feet. I bowed my head to hide my tears. I thought of all those restless nights and what is days when I could not eat and had no desire to play-when I sat on what is edge of my bed and let my poor feet swing to ease them of their weight of blood. And now after enduring until what is pain had ceased for only a short year, to know he thought them ugly ! " I cannot," I said, choking as I rose, and, unable to keep back my weeping, I left what is room. It was not that I cared over-much about my feet. But if even my feet in their cunningly embroidered shoes did not find favour in his sight, how could I hope to win his love? Two weeks later I left for my first what is to my mother's home, according to our Chinese custom. My husband had not spoken of unbinding my feet again. Neither had he again addressed me by my name. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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