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you think of having one in your home

Le 2 décembre 2016, 05:48 dans Humeurs 0

she said in a voice like the stuff they use to line summer clouds with. "I know I owe you an apology, but it seemed important for me to have a chance to observe you before I introduced myself. I am Eileen Wade." Spencer said grumpily: "He's not interested, Eileen." She smiled gently. "I disagree." I pulled myself together. I had been standing there off balance with my mouth open and me breathing through it like a sweet girl graduate. This was really a dish. Seen close up she was almost paralyzing. "I didn't say I wasn't interested, Mrs. Wade. What I said or meant to say was that I didn't think I could do any good, and it might be a hell of a mistake for me to try. It might do a lot of harm." She was very serious now. The smile had gone. "You are deciding too soon. You can't judge people by what they do. If you judge them at all, it must be by what they are." I nodded vaguely. Because that was exactly the way I had thought about Terry Lennox. On the facts he was no bargain, except for that one brief flash of glory in the foxhole—if Menendez told the truth about that — but the facts didn't tell the whole story by any means. He had been a man it was impossible to dislike. How many do you meet in a lifetime that you can say that about?

"And you have to know them for that," she added gently. "Goodbye, Mr. Marlowe. If you should change your mind — " She opened her bag quickly and gave me a card—"and thank you for being here." She nodded to Spencer and walked away. I watched her out of the bar, down the glassed-in annex to the dining room. She carried herself beautifully. I watched her turn under the archway that led to the lobby. I saw the lastflicker of her white linen skirt as she turned the corner. Then I eased myself down into the booth and grabbed the gin and orange.

Spencer was watching me. There was something hard in his eyes. "Nice work," I said, "but you ought to have looked at her once in a while. A dream like that doesn't sit across the room from you for twenty minutes without your even noticing." "Stupid of me, wasn't it?" He was trying to smile, but he didn't really want to. He didn't like the way I had looked at her. "People have such queer ideas about private detectives. When —" "Don't think of having this one in your home," I said. "Anyhow, think up another story first. You can do better than trying to make me believe anybody, drunk or sober, would throw that gorgeous downstairs and break five ribs for her." He reddened. His hands tightened on the briefcase.

I bloomin’ well like

Le 22 novembre 2016, 05:25 dans Humeurs 0

Three gallons a day, that’s ’is measure Serviced apartment hk,” interjected a morose gentleman, who was hanging over his garden gate and smoking the stump of a clay pipe.

“Wasn’t ’e carried ’ome from the club?”

“P’r’aps ’e was, p’r’aps ’e wasn’t. Any fool could ’ave seen that the man ’ad been workin’ hisself to death. Why, he fainted bang off one mornin’, round at our ’ouse. Ask my missus. A thimbleful o’ brandy would ’ave made a man in ’is state ’ug the railin’s.”

“Anyhow, he hugged ’em,” said the obdurate opponent.

“We ain’t always responsible for what we do when we’ve ’ad a bad smack over the side of the jaw.”

“Doct’rs oughtn’t ter touch it.”

“You’re a nice one to preach, now, ain’t yer?”

“He is that,” quoth the laconic worthy at the gate Bed Side Terminal.

“Look ’ere, don’t you go shovin’ it into me—sideways.”

“Let me argue ’im, Mr. Catt.”

“Argue, you ’ain’t got a leg to stand on!”

“Haven’t I, my boy!” and the two disputants began to glare.

The drayman wiped his hands on the back of his breeches.

“Some fool’ll be callin’ me a liar soon,” he remarked.

“It’s on the cards.”

“Look ’ere, Bill Bains, I’ve ’ad enough of your sarce. Stow it.”

“You go and bully your kids. Can’t I speak my mind when?”

“Course ’e can,” said the lady in the red blouse; “and ’e speaks it well, ’e does. Murchison was always a right down gentleman; better than that there Unique Beautylittle nipper, Steel.”

in economics andgovernment

Le 1 novembre 2016, 04:50 dans Humeurs 0

Given all these strides, I headed into college believing that the feminists of the sixties and seventieshad done the hard work of achieving equality for my generation. And yet, if anyone had called статистика по туризмуme afeminist, I would have quickly corrected that notion. This reaction is prevalent even today accordingto sociologist Marianne Cooper (who also contributed her extraordinary research assistance to thisbook). In her 2011 article, “The New F-Word,” Marianne wrote about college English professorMichele Elam, who observed something strange in her Introduction to Feminist Studies course. Eventhough her students were interested enough in gender equality to take an entire class on the subject,very few “felt comfortable using the word ‘feminism.’ ” And even “fewer identified themselves asfeminists.” As Professor Elam noted, it was as if “being Travel agents selling Hong Kong called a feminist was to suspect that some foulepithet had been hurled your way.”

It sounds like a joke: Did you hear the one about the woman taking a feminist studies class who gotangry when someone called her a feminist? But when I was in college, I embraced the samecontradiction. On one hand, I started a group to encourage more women to major . On the other hand, I would have denied being in any way, shape, or form a feminist.

None of my college friends thought of themselves as feminists either. It saddens me to admit that wedid not see the backlash against women around us.

We accepted the negative caricature of a bra-burning, humorless, man-hating feminist. She was not someone we wanted to emulate, in part becauseit seemed like she couldn’t get a date. Horrible, I know—the sad irony of rejecting feminism to getmale attention and approval. In our defense, my friends and I truly, if na.vely, believed that the worlddid not need feminists anymore. We mistakenly thought that there was nothing hong kong special event venuesleft to fight for.

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