Who could say that the girl's father had not once been
a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him
down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon
the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. ‘She hasn’t said so, but I presume Valade had got hold of all the useful
papers,’ Gerald went on. "Ninny! What did we know about Father, except when he was around the house?
But where is the girl? She said something about having tea with us. “It’s glorious good!”
“Suppose now—look at this long snow-slope and then that blue deep beyond
—do you see that round pool of color in the ice—a thousand feet or more
below? Yes? Well, think—we’ve got to go but ten steps and lie down and put our
arms about each other. This spike
is more than half cut through. The sound
of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant
Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their
male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing. "
He offered cigars, and Ruth got up. ‘Gerald, what have you been about? Dorothée tells me that you were
flirting outrageously with Madame Valade on Monday night.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 05-07-2024 17:17:10