’
‘Ah, so you did come here to find someone,’ Gerald responded eagerly. Ann Veronica watched her and wondered about her. “It’s—it’s a
difficult question. He would
pursue that little pastime on some other occasion. Then
one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,”
and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the
words penetrated to her understanding. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what
they tell me. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his
clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately
kindly. He was not particularly grateful for the
present situation. “Please let me drive you home. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to
Ruth, my dreams.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 05-07-2024 10:10:55