Decorative painting
city, and before we left the hotel room I gave Donna a book of sonnets. On the front of the book, I posted a note that directed her to specific pages, until she reached a sonnet by Christopher Marlowe that begins, "Live with me and be my love." That one said it all. I put a note there that directed her to the nightstand, where I'd left a small box. Donna started crying as she opened it and saw the diamond-and-sapphire engagement ring. In fact, she cried all through dinner. I wanted to tell the waiter that we just got engaged, but Donna was so excited and overwhelmed that she refused to talk about it. to improve, and then I started talking about all our good times and how much I loved her -- and why. I guess I overdid it, because sheplanned to propose to my girlfriend that night and asked them to read a fake song-request note I'd written before they played her favorite song. The note said: "I've got a gal here from South Carolina who loves the song 'Hickory Wind.' I was said, "What's going on
Showing posts with label Decorative painting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Decorative painting. Show all posts
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Decorative painting
Decorative painting
what she regarded as a fortunate chance, Mrs. Bunting found herself for close on an hour quite alone in the house during her husband's and Daisy's jaunt with young Chandler.
Mr. Sleuth did not o4ften go out in the daytime, but on this particular afternoon, after he had finished his tea, when dusk was falling, he suddenly observed that he wanted a new suit of clothes, and his landlady eagerly acquiesced in his going out to purchase it.
As soon as he had left the house, she went quickly up to the drawing-room floor. Now had come her opportunity of giving the two rooms a good dusting; but Mrs. Bunting knew well, deep in her heart, that it was not so much the dusting of Mr. Sleuth's sitting-room she wanted to do - as to engage in a vague search for - she hardly knew for what.During the years she had been in service Mrs. Bunting had always had a deep, wordless contempt for those of her fellow-servants who read their employers' private letters, and who furtively peeped into desks and cupboards in the hope, more vague than positive, of discovering family skeletons.
what she regarded as a fortunate chance, Mrs. Bunting found herself for close on an hour quite alone in the house during her husband's and Daisy's jaunt with young Chandler.
Mr. Sleuth did not o4ften go out in the daytime, but on this particular afternoon, after he had finished his tea, when dusk was falling, he suddenly observed that he wanted a new suit of clothes, and his landlady eagerly acquiesced in his going out to purchase it.
As soon as he had left the house, she went quickly up to the drawing-room floor. Now had come her opportunity of giving the two rooms a good dusting; but Mrs. Bunting knew well, deep in her heart, that it was not so much the dusting of Mr. Sleuth's sitting-room she wanted to do - as to engage in a vague search for - she hardly knew for what.During the years she had been in service Mrs. Bunting had always had a deep, wordless contempt for those of her fellow-servants who read their employers' private letters, and who furtively peeped into desks and cupboards in the hope, more vague than positive, of discovering family skeletons.
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