"
"Don't say anything about it, dear Mrs. “Stop! Don’t put your face there. ”
Anna rose to her feet. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous
dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was
not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few
minutes gone. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black
seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would
have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. It was as if
her finite human brain could only store a limit of
information, details like hair color and fingernail shape
easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin
or the emotion of a shoulder blade. "Hear me out," said Jonathan. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to
see them go. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a
desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the
Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 28-06-2024 02:06:34