As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. He would read the jokes and illustrate them; and after a time I could see the point of a joke without having it explained to me. If they entered a shop, he paused by the doorway, as if waiting for the journey to be resumed. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 30-06-2024 17:16:25
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