全球代购正品网站‘Jan. 3, 1865.Uncle Simon had "foreclosed." That was Bobby's expression, a month ago. For a month Bobby had watched the sands running down; no more money to come in and all the time money running out. Absolutely unalarmed, and only noticing the fact as he might have noticed a change in the weather, he had made no provision, trusting to chance, to bridge that betrayed him, and to friends. Literature could not help. He had got into a wrong groove as far as moneymaking went. Little articles for literary papers of limited circulation and a really cultivated taste are not the immediate means to financial support in a world that devours its fictional literature like ham sandwiches, forgotten[Pg 90] as soon as eaten—and only fictional literature pays.【{】【9】【5】【}】“The aviator is already provided, sir.全球代购正品网站
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