“It’s either now or never,” she
said to herself. My
name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. And rather unscrupulous. At sight of his wan
features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees
at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled
coverlet. Once, when he thought he had done so, he
smiled an ingratiating smile. Scissors with which to cut her hair, just in case. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man?
Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift?
But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah,
but that had been after he had played for her. ” He dabbed with his paper-weight again, and
spoke in an entirely indifferent tone. She played “Happy Birthday” for John, after which they
plied her with a dozen requests. Her brown curls were pulled tight in a severe
chignon. ”
Anna lifted her hand and pushed open the trap door. Ann Veronica stared for a moment in
amazement at this dark-green object that clashed as it was put down. It wasn’t
anything splendid, you know. And if he
didn’t, what was the good of seeing him?
“I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 29-06-2024 22:02:41