"Curse you, curse you!" howled the Squire. But his voice was weak, as if
he shouted against a wind. "Curse you, curse you!" he shouted, now
cursing his sisters.
The wind lashed the panes of glass; shots volleyed in the Park and a
tree fell. And then King Edward, in the silver frame, slid,
Cheap Newport Cigarettes, toppled,
Cheap Newport, and
fell too.
Oliver Bacon lived at the top of a house overlooking the Green Park. He
had a flat; chairs jutted out at the right angles--chairs covered in
hide. Sofas filled the bays of the windows--sofas covered in tapestry.
The windows, the three long windows,
Carton Marlboro, had the proper allowance of
discreet net and figured satin.