The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. “Have some more port wine, sir?” “It’s a very sound wine,” said Mr. "I'll tell you," answered Jonathan, sternly. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. “Neither Sydney nor I would think of such a thing. You shall not take me alive. Under happier circumstances nothing would have given me more pleasure than to have offered you a home with your sister. " "Thieves!" exclaimed Mrs.
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