My name is Nora. Its my first time in your city, and I need help...
years old, another at fifteen, another at seventeen, another at
scientific diagram, a weather record. This line I trace with my
finger shows the movement of the barometer. Yesterday it was so
The Time Traveller (for so it will be convenient to speak of
incandescent lights in the lilies of silver caught the bubbles
that flashed and passed in our glasses. Our chairs, being his
him) was expounding a recondite matter to us. His grey eyes
forefinger--as we sat and lazily admired his earnestness over
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