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Page 147

THE WALSHINGHAMS

and appreciation that he remembered from the last of the art-class meetings.
`I wondered whether you would call or whether you wouldn't before you left Folkestone.'
`I'm not leaving Folkestone for a bit, and any'ow I should have called on you.'
`Mother will be sorry she was out. I've told her about you, and she wants, I know, to meet you.'
'I saw 'er-if that was 'er-in the shop,' said Kipps.
'Yes-you did, didn't you? ... She has gone out to make some duty calls, and I didn't go. I had something to write. I write a little, you know.'
'Reely,' said Kipps.
`It's nothing much,' she said, `and it comes to nothing.' She glanced at a little desk near the window, on which there lay some paper. `One must do something.' She broke off abruptly. `Have you seen our outlook?' she asked, and walked to the window, and Kipps came and stood beside her. `We look on the Square. It might be worse, you know. That out-porter's truck there is horrid-and the railings, but it's better than staring one's social replica in the face, isn't it? It's pleasant in early spring-bright green laid on with a dry brush-and it's pleasant in autumn.'
`I like it,' said Kipps. `That laylock there is pretty, isn't it?'
Children come and pick it at times,' she remarked.
`I dessay they do,' said Kipps.
He rested on his hat and stick and looked appreciatively out of the window, and she glanced at him for one swift moment. A suggestion that might have come from The Art of Conversing came into his head. `Have you a garden?' he said.
She shrugged her shoulders. `Only a little one,' she said, and then, `Perhaps you would like to see it.'
`I like gardening,' said Kipps, with memories of a penny worth of nasturtiums he had once trained over his uncle's dustbin.
She led the way with a certain relief.
They emerged ~through a four-seasons' coloured glass door to a little iron veranda, that led by iron steps to a minute walled garden. There was just room for a patch of turf and a flower-bed; one sturdy variegated Euonymus grew in the corner. But the early June flowers, the big

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE and appreciation that he remembered from what is last of what is art-class meetings. `I wondered whether you would call or whether you wouldn't before you left Folkestone.' `I'm not leaving Folkestone for a bit, and any'ow I should have called on you.' `Mother will be sorry she was out. I've told her about you, and she wants, I know, to meet you.' 'I saw 'er-if that was 'er-in what is shop,' said Kipps. 'Yes-you did, didn't you? ... She has gone out to make some duty calls, and I didn't go. I had something to write. I write a little, you know.' 'Reely,' said Kipps. `It's nothing much,' she said, `and it comes to nothing.' She glanced at a little desk near what is window, on which there lay some paper. `One must do something.' She broke off abruptly. `Have you seen our outlook?' she asked, and walked to what is window, and Kipps came and stood beside her. `We look on what is Square. It might be worse, you know. That out-porter's truck there is horrid-and what is railings, but it's better than staring one's social replica in what is face, isn't it? It's pleasant in early spring-bright green laid on with a dry brush-and it's pleasant in autumn.' `I like it,' said Kipps. `That laylock there is pretty, isn't it?' Children come and pick it at times,' she remarked. `I dessay they do,' said Kipps. He rested on his hat and stick and looked appreciatively out of what is window, and she glanced at him for one swift moment. A suggestion that might have come from what is Art of Conversing came into his head. `Have you a garden?' he said. She shrugged her shoulders. `Only a little one,' she said, and then, `Perhaps you would like to see it.' `I like gardening,' said Kipps, with memories of a penny worth of nasturtiums he had once trained over his uncle's dustbin. She led what is way with a certain relief. They emerged ~through a four-seasons' coloured glass door to a little iron veranda, that led by iron steps to a minute walled garden. There was just room for a patch of turf and a flower-bed; one sturdy variegated Euonymus grew in what is corner. But what is early June flowers, what is big 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" Kipps (1905) 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 147 where is p align="center" where is strong THE WALSHINGHAMS where is p align="justify" and appreciation that he remembered from what is last of the art-class meetings. `I wondered whether you would call or whether you wouldn't before you left Folkestone.' `I'm not leaving Folkestone for a bit, and any'ow I should have called on you.' `Mother will be sorry she was out. I've told her about you, and she wants, I know, to meet you.' 'I saw 'er-if that was 'er-in what is shop,' said Kipps. 'Yes-you did, didn't you? ... She has gone out to make some duty calls, and I didn't go. I had something to write. I write a little, you know.' 'Reely,' said Kipps. `It's nothing much,' she said, `and it comes to nothing.' She glanced at a little desk near what is window, on which there lay some paper. `One must do something.' She broke off abruptly. `Have you seen our outlook?' she asked, and walked to what is window, and Kipps came and stood beside her. `We look on what is Square. It might be worse, you know. That out-porter's truck there is horrid-and what is railings, but it's better than staring one's social replica in what is face, isn't it? It's pleasant in early spring-bright green laid on with a dry brush-and it's pleasant in autumn.' `I like it,' said Kipps. `That laylock there is pretty, isn't it?' Children come and pick it at times,' she remarked. `I dessay they do,' said Kipps. He rested on his hat and stick and looked appreciatively out of what is window, and she glanced at him for one swift moment. A suggestion that might have come from what is Art of Conversing came into his head. `Have you a garden?' he said. She shrugged her shoulders. `Only a little one,' she said, and then, `Perhaps you would like to see it.' `I like gardening,' said Kipps, with memories of a penny worth of nasturtiums he had once trained over his uncle's dustbin. She led what is way with a certain relief. They emerged ~through a four-seasons' coloured glass door to a little iron veranda, that led by iron steps to a minute walled garden. There was just room for a patch of turf and a flower-bed; one sturdy variegated Euonymus grew in what is corner. But what is early June flowers, what is big where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Kipps (1905) books

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