She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery
Lane. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted,
hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the
sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless
energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his
fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than
anything he had ever seen. He did like her, anyhow; he was always pleased to be
with her. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said. “If only Sir John were not Sir John I would ask you
to come and have some supper. On the bench was set a quartern
measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. They must have a key. ‘The cat’s foot, Hilary. Treasure caves to
explore!
All through these trying days she had recurrently wondered what this strange
young man would have to say that Dickens and Hugo had not already said. This he
accomplished by holding the chain that connected them firmly between his teeth,
and squeezing his fingers as closely together as possible, succeeded in drawing
his wrists through the manacles. ‘Least of all, one who takes
advantage of another’s misfortune.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 24-06-2024 00:17:44