“I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. ”
“Your ideas of fairness—” he remarked, and discontinued that sentence. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this
amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the
derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind?
"Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?"
"No. My poor Hoddy! I had to talk harshly, or break down and have
hysterics. Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away
from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning. He was there concealed, waiting
her return. His voice had
changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the
past had rolled up to spoil this hour. It may here be mentioned that this gate,
destined to bequeath its name—a name, which has since acquired a terrible
significance,—to every successive structure erected upon its site, was granted, in
1400, by charter by Henry the Sixth to the citizens of London, in return for their
royal services, and thenceforth became the common jail to that city and the
county of Middlesex. A sarcastic smile seemed to play upon the chief-taker's
lips; and abashed at his own irresolution, the lad went on. She
responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 26-06-2024 06:14:00