At twenty, owing to her health, she

At twenty, owing to her health, she had left Sheerness. Her father had retired home to Nottingham. John Field's father had been ruined; the son had gone as a teacher in Norwood. She did not hear of him until, two years later, she made determined inquiry. He had married his landlady, a woman of forty, a widow with property.
And still Mrs. Morel preserved John Field's Bible. She did not now believe him to be—Well, she understood pretty well what he might or might not have been. So she preserved his Bible, and kept his memory intact in her heart, for her own sake. To her dying day, for thirty-five years, she did not speak of him.
When she was twenty-three years old, she met, at a Christmas party, a young man from the Erewash Valley. Morel was then twenty-seven years old. He was well set-up, erect, and very smart. He had wavy black hair that shone again, and a vigorous black beard that had never been shaved. His cheeks were ruddy, and his red, moist mouth was noticeable because he laughed so often and so heartily. He had that rare thing, a rich, ringing laugh. Gertrude Coppard had watched him, fascinated. He was so full of colour and animation, his voice ran so easily into comic grotesque, he was so ready and so pleasant with everybody. Her own father had a rich fund of humour, but it was satiric. This man's was different: soft, non-intellectual, warm, a kind of gambolling.
She herself was opposite. She had a curious, receptive mind which found much pleasure and amusement in listening to other folk. She was clever in leading folk to talk. She loved ideas, and was considered very intellectual. What she liked most of all was an argument on religion or philosophy or politics with some educated man. This she did not often enjoy. So she always had people tell her about themselves, finding her pleasure so.
In her person she was rather small and delicate, with a large brow, and dropping bunches of brown silk curls. Her blue eyes were very straight, honest, and searching. She had the beautiful hands of the Coppards. Her dress was always subdued. She wore dark blue silk, with a peculiar silver chain of silver scallops. This, and a heavy brooch of twisted gold, was her only ornament. She was still perfectly intact, deeply religious, and full of beautiful candour.
Walter Morel seemed melted away before her. She was to the miner that thing of mystery and fascination, a lady. When she spoke to him, it was with a southern pronunciation and a purity of English which thrilled him to hear. She watched him. He danced well, as if it were natural and joyous in him to dance. His grandfather was a French refugee who had married an English barmaid—if it had been a marriage. Gertrude Coppard watched the young miner as he danced, a certain subtle exultation like glamour in his movement, and his face the flower of his body, ruddy, with tumbled black hair, and laughing alike whatever partner he bowed above. She thought him rather wonderful, never having met anyone like him. Her father was to her the type of all men. And George Coppard, proud in his bearing, handsome, and rather bitter; who preferred theology in reading, and who drew near in sympathy only to one man, the Apostle Paul; who was harsh in government, and in familiarity ironic; who ignored all sensuous pleasure:—he was very different from the miner. Gertrude herself was rather contemptuous of dancing; she had not the slightest inclination towards that accomplishment, and had never learned even a Roger de Coverley. She was puritan, like her father, high-minded, and really stern. Therefore the dusky, golden softness of this man's sensuous flame of life, that flowed off his flesh like the flame from a candle, not baffled and gripped into incandescence by thought and spirit as her life was, seemed to her something wonderful, beyond her.

Kết quả (Anh) 1:

At twenty, owing to her health, she had left Sheerness. Her father had retired home to Nottingham. John Field's father had been ruined; the son had gone as a teacher in Norwood. She did not hear of him until, two years later, she made determined inquiry. He had married his landlady, a woman of forty, a widow with property.Mrs. Morel and still well-preserved John Field's Bible. She did not now believe him to be — Well, she understood pretty well what he might or might not have been. So she his well-preserved Bible, and kept his memory intact in her heart, for her own sake. To her dying day, for thirty-five years, she did not speak of him.When she was twenty-three years old, she met, at a Christmas party, a young man from the Erewash Valley. Morel was then twenty-seven years old. He was well set-up, erect, and very smart. He had wavy black hair that shone again, and a vigorous black beard that had never been shaved. His cheeks were ruddy, red, moist and his mouth was noticeable because he laughed so often and so heartily. He had that rare thing, a rich, ringing laugh. Gertrude Coppard had watched him, fascinated. He was so full of colour and animation, his voice ran so easily into comic grotesque, he was so ready and so pleasant with everybody. Her own father had a rich fund of humour, but it was satiric. This man's was different: the soft, non-intellectual, warm, a kind of gambolling.She herself was the opposite. She had a curious, receptive mind which found much pleasure and amusement in listening to other folk. She was clever in leading folk to talk. She loved ideas, and was considered very intellectual. What she liked most of all was an argument on religion or philosophy or politics with some educated man. This she did not often enjoy. So she always had people tell her about themselves, finding her pleasure in comparison.In her person she was rather small and delicate, with a large brow, and dropping bunches of brown silk curls. Her blue eyes were very straight, honest, and searching. She had the beautiful hands of the Coppards. Her dress was always subdued. She wore dark blue silk, with a peculiar silver chain of silver scallops. This, and a heavy flower brooch of twisted gold, was her only ornament. She was still perfectly intact, deeply religious, and full of beautiful candour.Walter Morel seemed melted away before her. She was to the miner that thing of mystery and fascination, a lady. When she spoke to him, it was with a southern pronunciation and a purity of English which thrilled him to hear. She watched him. He danced well, as if it were natural and joyous in him to dance. His grandfather was a French refugee who had married an English barmaid — if it had been a marriage. Gertrude Coppard watched the young miner as he danced, a certain subtle exultation like glamour in his movement, and his face the flower of his body, ruddy, with advertising revenues tumbled black hair, and laughing alike whatever partner he bowed above. She thought him rather wonderful, never having met anyone like him. Her father was to her the type of all men. And George Coppard, proud in his bearing, handsome, and rather bitter; who preferred theology in reading, and who drew near in sympathy only to one man, the Apostle Paul; who was harsh in government, and in familiarity ironic; who ignored all sensuous pleasure: — he was very different from the miner. Gertrude herself was rather contemptuous of dancing; She had not the slightest inclination towards that accomplishment, and had never learned even a Roger de Coverley. She was the puritan, like her father, high-minded, and really stern. Therefore the dusky, golden softness of this man's sensuous flame of life, that flowed off his flesh like the flame from a candle, not baffled and gripped into incandescence by thought and spirit as her life was, seemed to her something wonderful, beyond her.

Kết quả (Anh) 2:

At twenty, owing to the her health, SHE hda left Sheerness. Her father retired hda home to Nottingham. John Field's father hda được ruined; the son as a teacher gone hda print Norwood. She did not hear of photographing an until, two years later, She made ​​định inquiry. He married his hda landlady, a woman of forty, a widow with property.
And still Mrs. Morel preserved John Field's Bible. She did not now believe him to be-Well, She understood pretty well what he might, or might, not past tense. So SHE HIS Bible preserved, and kept his memory printed Intact her heart, for the her own sake. To the her dying day, for thirty-five years, or she did not speak of him.
When She was twenty-three years old, She met, at a Christmas party, a young man from the Erewash Valley. Morel was then twenty-seven years old. He was well set-up, erect, and very smart. Wavy black hair có có He shone again, and a vigorous black beard shaved Never Been mà hda. His ruddy cheeks là, and his red, moist mouth was noticeable vì he laughed heartily and so often Do considering. He có có rare thing, a rich, ringing laugh. Hda Coppard Gertrude watched him, fascinated. He was so full of color and animation, his voice ran over Easily Into comic grotesque, he was so ready and so pleasant with everybody. Her own father had a rich fund of humor, but it was satiric. This man's was khác: soft, non-intellectual, warm, a kind of gambolling.
She herself was opposite. She had a curious, receptive mind mà found much pleasure listening to other print and Amusement folk. She was clever folk to talk leading print. She loved ideas, and was Considered very intellectual. What SHE liked Most of all was an argument on religion or philosophy or politics with some educated man. This or she did not often enjoy. So SHE always tell her Do hda người about Themselves, finding the her pleasure over.
In the her person rather small and delicate She Was, with a large brow, and dropping bunches of brown silk curls. Her blue eyes were very straight, honest, and searching. She Had the beautiful hands of the Coppards. Her dress was always subdued. She wore dark blue silk, with a peculiar silver chain of silver scallops. This, and a heavy brooch of twisted gold, was the her only ornament. She was still perfectly Intact, deeply Religious, and full of beautiful Candour.
Walter Morel melted away all before her Artist Seemed. She was to the miner of mystery and fascination That Thing, a lady. When She spoke to him, it was with a Southern and a purity of English Pronunciation mà thrilled to hear him. She watched him. He danced well, as if it Were photographing natural and joyous print to dance. His grandfather was a French Refugee who married an English hda barmaid-if it Had Been a marriage. Coppard Gertrude watched as he danced the young miner, A Certain subtle glamor In His exultation like movement, and his face the flower of his body, ruddy, with black hair tumbled, and laughing alike whatever partner he bowed above. She thought him rather wonderful, never having met anyone like him. Her father was the type of all the her to men. And George Coppard, In His proud bearing, handsome, and rather bitter; who preferred print reading theology, and who drew near to one man only print sympathy, the Apostle Paul; who was printing Harsh government requirements, and print familiarity ironic; who bị all sensuous pleasure: coefficient was very khác the miner. Gertrude herself was rather contemptuous of dancing; Had not the slightest inclination SHE Towards That accomplishment, and hda never a Roger de Coverley thậm Learned. She was Puritan, like the her father, a high-minded, and really stern. Therefore the Dusky, golden softness of this man's sensuous flame of Life, that flowed off his flesh like the flame from a candle, not baffled and gripped Into incandescence by thought and spirit as the her life was, Seemed to her Do something wonderful, beyond the her.