Turniej Pokemon

john3859

o gratitude. To take money from him was
like robbing a childand you despised him because he was so foolish. I
imagine that a pickpocketproud of his light fingersmust feel a sort of
indignation with the careless woman who leaves in a cab a vanity-bag with
all her jewels in it. Nature had made him a buttbut had denied him
insensibility. He writhed under the jokespractical and otherwisewhich
were perpetually made at his expenseand yet never ceasedit seemed
wilfullyto expose himself to them. He was constantly woundedand yet
his good- nature was such that he could not bear malice: the viper might
sting himbut he never learned by experienceand had no sooner
recovered from his pain than he tenderly placed it once more in his bosom.
His life was a tragedy written in the terms of knockabout farce. Because
I did not laugh at him he was grateful to meand he used to pour into my
sympathetic ear the long list of his troubles. The saddest thing about
them was that they were grotesqueand the more pathetic they werethe
more you wanted to laugh.
But though so bad a painterhe had a very delicate feeling for artand
to go with him to picture-galleries was a rare treat. His enthusiasm was
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