"Is she alive?"
"She is not," replied Trenchard, overcome by conflicting emotions, and unable to
endure the boy's agonized look. "A miserly old woman. I keep my finger on the pulse of things. It is no fault of your own that you are not
at this moment standing there with your head blown off. If she has no children, she goes on
loving her husband; but he is no longer a man but a child. "
"Quite the contrary," rejoined the woollen-draper, laughing good-humouredly. ”
Ann Veronica could have wept with vexation. “Dear me!” he said. She was supposed to be reading at home,
and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a
position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage
of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden
appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr. “And to-night we are friends?”
“We are friends,” said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from
him. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant,
and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. A glance down the passage—to see that
Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her
eyes. And all to satisfy a succession of rapacious lightskirts. Restlessness, then, was the
trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 03-07-2024 11:14:57