The brown house,
almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as
pitch in the gloom. She did not understand the note of hostility to men that
ran through it all, the bitter vindictiveness that lit Miss Miniver’s cheeks and
eyes, the sense of some at last insupportable wrong slowly accumulated. Two souls in travail; one inspired by
fresh hopes, the other, by fresh despairs. Larry would be up soon. The months that followed September spiraled
downward. '—'It's not to be thought of,' says I, thumping the table till every
glass on it jingled; 'and I know a way as'll prevent it. If he died, here in this hotel, who would
care? Or if she died, who would care?
A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of
trying to forget.
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This video was uploaded to casualcorneroutlet.net on 30-06-2024 10:05:35