Eight
per cent. ‘One
of your countrymen, perhaps?’
The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the
darkness. "You frighten the cull
out of his senses. He is Jacques. The glance, which he
threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of
alarm, effrontery, and resolution. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn
could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her
screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a
rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where
someone had pried out a few golden teeth. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was
continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable
member of society. It throbs
cruelly. I've an excellent memory, thank God! And I
perfectly remember that everybody was drowned upon that occasion—except
yourself and the child!"
"My love you're beside yourself—"
"I was beside myself to take charge of your—"
"Mother?" interposed Winifred. “Yes I did.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 26-06-2024 17:35:06