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Eleanora H.
A Song-bird
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4631346A Song-birdhttps://www.gandhi.com.mx/a-song-bird-9781465684776/phttps://gandhi.vtexassets.com/arquivos/ids/4313869/image.jpg?v=638446635550570000117130MXNLibrary of AlexandriaInStock/Ebooks/<p>THERE, Ive finished. How the days are drawing in, to be sure! I declare its getting dark already, though its only six oclock. The scene was an upstairs sitting-room in a dingy London lodging-house, on a September evening. And the speakerMrs. Greyrose from her seat at the table as she spoke, and laid aside her writing materials with an air of relief, afterwards placing the letter, over the composition of which she had spent fully half an hour, on the mantelpiece. She then took an easy-chair by the window, whilst the other occupant of the roomher little daughter, Mavis, who had been watching the passers-by in the streetsettled herself on a stool at her feet. "Now we can have a nice chat, mother," Mavis said. "Ive been longing to talk, but I havent liked to disturb you. Youve been writing a very particular letter, havent you?" "Yes, dear; but how did you guess that?" "You looked so grave, and, I thought, sad. Theres nothing very much amiss, is there, mother? Are you worrying because you havent had any nursing to do lately? Weve money left to go on with, havent we?" Mavis was a pretty little girl of ten years, with beautiful hazel eyes, and a quantity of soft brown hair which curled naturally and could never be kept tidy. Her expression was one of great anxiety, as she looked up into her mothers face and waited for her response. Mrs. Grey did not answer immediately. She was a tall, handsome woman, with a self-reliant manner, and a countenance which inspired trust. She had been left a widow several years previously, since when she had had a hard battle to fight. For her husband, who had held a curacy in the East End of London, had had no private means, and at his death she had found herself nearly penniless.</p>...4409182A Song-bird117130https://www.gandhi.com.mx/a-song-bird-9781465684776/phttps://gandhi.vtexassets.com/arquivos/ids/4313869/image.jpg?v=638446635550570000InStockMXN99999DIEbook20259781465684776_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_<p>THERE, Ive finished. How the days are drawing in, to be sure! I declare its getting dark already, though its only six oclock. The scene was an upstairs sitting-room in a dingy London lodging-house, on a September evening. And the speakerMrs. Greyrose from her seat at the table as she spoke, and laid aside her writing materials with an air of relief, afterwards placing the letter, over the composition of which she had spent fully half an hour, on the mantelpiece. She then took an easy-chair by the window, whilst the other occupant of the roomher little daughter, Mavis, who had been watching the passers-by in the streetsettled herself on a stool at her feet. "Now we can have a nice chat, mother," Mavis said. "Ive been longing to talk, but I havent liked to disturb you. Youve been writing a very particular letter, havent you?" "Yes, dear; but how did you guess that?" "You looked so grave, and, I thought, sad. Theres nothing very much amiss, is there, mother? Are you worrying because you havent had any nursing to do lately? Weve money left to go on with, havent we?" Mavis was a pretty little girl of ten years, with beautiful hazel eyes, and a quantity of soft brown hair which curled naturally and could never be kept tidy. Her expression was one of great anxiety, as she looked up into her mothers face and waited for her response. Mrs. Grey did not answer immediately. She was a tall, handsome woman, with a self-reliant manner, and a countenance which inspired trust. She had been left a widow several years previously, since when she had had a hard battle to fight. For her husband, who had held a curacy in the East End of London, had had no private means, and at his death she had found herself nearly penniless.</p>...9781465684776_Library of Alexandrialibro_electonico_9781465684776_9781465684776Eleanora H.InglésMéxicohttps://getbook.kobo.com/koboid-prod-public/markmoxford-epub-bf0faaeb-3bb1-4e46-af7f-831dfe6dea71.epub2025-09-28T00:00:00+00:00Library of Alexandria