On the morning of his thirtieth birthday, Mr. David Mosscrop lounged against the low stone parapet of Westminster Bridge, and surveyed at length the unflagging procession of his fellow-creatures plodding past him northward into the polite half of London town.

March Hares转载自网络，转载至本站只是为了让更多读者阅读欣赏，本站愿与您一起共建良好的阅读环境！

天下书楼内容均来自互联网，如不慎侵害您的权益，请联系网页底部邮箱，我们将尽快删除。