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Updated: May 9, 2025
I do wish," he went on, gnawing at an ancient bit of almond-rock that he had acquired at the village sweetstuff shop at home, "that mother had had me well whacked when I was a kid. It would have saved me no end of trouble now." Brigit laughed as she dabbed some cherry-coloured grease on her pointed nails. "Poor old Tommy!"
The almond-rock was an impediment to fluency of conversation, but after a moment Tommy mastered it and went on. "I say, Bicky, what's gone wrong with Carron?" She started. "I why do you ask?" "Because I think he looks very ill. Saw him yesterday as I went out, and hardly knew him." "Perhaps he's had influenza," she suggested. She had not seen the man for weeks.
All her pupils seemed to like her, and some of the students brought her little gifts of flowers, and packets of chocolate and almond-rock that Maria ate for her. The prior gave her a plaster statuette of St Catherine. "She was clever, and so are you," he said. "Carmela, I am not really antipatica?" "What foolishness! No." "Why does Gemma hate me then?
He looked at her quizzingly. "No, dear," she said earnestly. "There's only Levi Jacobs, Reb Shemuel's son, who's been coming round sometimes to play with Solomon, and brings me almond-rock. But I don't care for him at least not in that way. Besides, he's quite above us." "Oh, is he? Wait till I write my novels!" "I wish you'd write them now. Because then I should have something to read Oh!"
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