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Updated: May 24, 2025
Having obtained my passport, and got it vised for the Sultan's dominions at the Turkish consulate, and placed in Faed's possession a bundle of maps, which he generously volunteers to forward , to me, as I require them in the various countries it is proposed to traverse, I return on April 30th to Liverpool, from which point the formal start on the wheel across England is to be made.
This girl has the clear Southern pallor; she's of the olive hue; and her eyes are black as sloes, not that I know what sloes are. Did she remind you of anything in particular?" "Yes; a little of Faed's Evangeline, as she sat in the door-way of the warehouse yesterday." "Exactly. I wish the picture were more of a picture; but I don't know that it matters. She's more of a picture."
The long lashes can't be; she can't make them curl up at the edges. Blood, Lurella Blood. And she wants to know." Staniford's voice fell thoughtful. "She's more slender than Faed's Evangeline. Faed painted rather too fat a sufferer on that tombstone. Lurella Blood has a very pretty figure. Lurella. Why Lurella?" "Oh, come, Staniford!" cried Dunham.
At Faed's suggestion I decide to remain over in London until Saturday to be present at the annual tricycle meet on Barnes Common, and together we wheel down the Edgeware Road, Park Road, among the fashionable turnouts of Piccadilly, past Knightsbridge and Brompton to the "Inventories" Exhibition, where we spend a most enjoyable afternoon inspecting the thousand and one material evidences of inventive genius from the several countries represented.
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