parchmented

Updated: May 27, 2025

Write, write, write! till my fingers are cramped, and my feet have no more feeling in them than the stool has! Why, I wouldn't stop by myself in this horrid, musty, parchmented old place Oh, it's you, is it?" This was addressed to the postman, who came in with the afternoon delivery of letters. Two. He handed them to Roland, and departed.

Mrs. Henry Wood - The Channings