“I wish I had been taught how to make a bed!” complained Roland de Céligny, as he wrestled with his blanket in the half-darkness of the attic.

“You may think yourself lucky to have a bed to make!” retorted a comrade who sat cross-legged on a neighbouring pile of sacking. “Mine cannot be ‘made,’ though a careless movement will reduce it to its component elements.”

The Yellow Poppy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！

笔下文学内容均来自互联网，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。