Frida Kahlo My Dress Hangs ThereFrida Kahlo Diego and IDouglas Hofmann Model
No, ‘ said Arthur, ‘by a lawyer. I got this letter, see? With a posh blob of wax on it and everything. Blahblah-blah . . . great-great-uncle . . . blahblahblah . . . only surviving relative . . . blahblahblah . . . may we be the first to offer our , dropping a portcullis into that
avenue of conversation.’I should have known even before we went to look at
it. So I turned the carriage around, right? I thought, well, that’s four days
wasted, right in the middle of our busy season. I don’t think any more about heartiest . . . blahblahblah. One minute I’m Arthur Winkings, a coming man in the wholesale fruit and vegetable business, next minute I find I’m Arthur, Count Notfaroutoe, owner of fifty acres of cliff face a goat’d fall off of and a castle that even the cockroaches have abandoned and an invitation from the burgomaster to drop in down at the village one day and discuss three hundred years of back taxes.’‘I hate lawyers, ‘ said the voice from under the chair. It had a sad, hollow sound. Windle tried to move his legs a little closer to his own chair. ‘It voss quite a good castle, ‘ said Doreen.‘A bloody heap of mouldering stone is what it was,’ said Arthur.‘It had nice views.’‘Yeah, through every wall, ‘ said Arthur
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