"Go to the pump, Nab," he said, when this was done, "and fill a pail with water. As Leonardo had himself
pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the
unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who
could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them
away?
‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal
her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of
an English lady. “But it makes me feel inhuman,” he added. Do you have a
car?” She asked. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid,
patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a
pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last
century, and some other articles of female attire. She had eaten little
or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing. ’
‘How can I have more? You have taken my pistol. He was aroused from his slumber, about six o'clock, by the return of Abraham
Mendez, who not choosing to confess that Jack had eluded his vigilance,
contended himself with stating that he had kept watch till daybreak, when he had
carefully searched the field, and, finding no trace of him, had thought it better to
return. 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.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 04-07-2024 11:36:35