He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt,
crashing music. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one
could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something
that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. And now she comprehended that the man (she had never known him
by any name) knew she had surprised the look and had not resented it. ‘And why not?’
‘Because,’ Gerald said matter of factly, ‘convent-bred jeune demoiselles do
not commonly know how to handle either pistols or daggers. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she
thought to herself and smirked. They
shall hear of me no more. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the
melancholy procession descending the hill. She had decided that she would spend the next morning
answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and
so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. "
"Agreed.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 29-06-2024 20:36:06