After a little
further discourse the old man took his departure. Beneath the
shelf, containing these books, hung the fine old ballad of 'St. She had a vision of policemen,
reproving magistrates, a crowded court, public disgrace. That shining
slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we
are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared
nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for
one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from
life and left it light and fire. Why do you not go away?’
‘Yes, do go away,’ begged Gerald. To the Seven Cities of Refuge Jack proceeded. Romance! The romance of passing faces, of wires that carried voices and words
to the far ends of the world, of tremendous mechanisms that propelled ships and
trains! And, oh the beautiful books!
She swiftly knelt upon the floor and once more gathered the books to her heart. "
"To-morrow will be too late," replied the widow, in a hollow voice, "I feel it will. I saw it this morning in the
Daily Journal—an advertisement, offering a reward—"
"A reward!" echoed Jack. You represented to us the immaculate
Briton, the one Englishman who typified the Saxonism, if I may coin a word, of
our race. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. It presented itself in
the likeness of a great, gray, dull world—a brutal, superstitious, confused, and
wrong-headed world, that hurt people and limited people unaccountably. What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps
gone. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my
husband has upset me.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 28-06-2024 18:56:13