Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 4, 2025
One evening Mrs. Strong heard gay laughter in her mother's room, and, going in to see what it was about, found her mother sitting up in bed laughing, while Louis walked up and down the room gesticulating and telling her the "true story" of his affair with Moroccy.
Her eyes, soft blue eyes, bespoke hope; her lips quivered with tell- tale anxiety. Something inharmonious about the little woman, a queer lack of adjustment between voice and mouth, struck me as singular, but not unpleasing. "It's called," she pleaded, in the tenderest tones, "A Golden Word from Mother. I sell it bound in cloth, sheep, or moroccy. It's perfectly lovely in moroccy."
The one advantage about this peculiar story was the hilarious fun he was able to get out of it. He made up all kinds of wonderful romances about the supposititious first wife, who he said was a native of Morocco, "black, but a damned fine woman." When Mrs. Stevenson scolded him for not wearing his cloak in the rain he pretended to weep and said: "Moroccy never spoke to me like that!"
Her hands trembled. "I sell it in cloth at one dollar; in sheep at one, six bits; in reel moroccy, with gold toolin' at two an' a half." "We must certainly secure a copy in gold and morocco." Her eyes sparkled with pleasure. "Two copies," I suggested rashly: "one for you, Ajax; one for me."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking