"I'm afraid we'll have to dig into his trunk," he said. ”
“And I also,” Brendon echoed. "I cannot scare him thence. One is always familiar
with the business of one’s neighbours. His bravado waxed and he asked her to what would be
her first date in nearly twenty years. I have
suffered—I have sinned—I have repented. "
"Won't my life do as well as his?" supplicated the other. She brought her face to his chest, turning her head
sideways so he would not notice her elongated canines. Do
you know the story of Orpheus? He was a musician who
followed his damned wife into Hell to bring her back?
He was one of us, I believe. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and
addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near
Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously,
exercised a powerful effect upon him. But you must
come this way now. ”
“She doesn’t develop a specialty. Why? While the
front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of
underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as
much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back
chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?”
His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some
secret or forbidden or impossible lover. ‘I have justice. There is a musical
programme, and we have the windows open and blinds up, and a pink lamp
shade over the piano lamp—a sort of advertisement of the place, you know.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 05-07-2024 23:21:51