“It is a hateful story. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would
make the chains of roses. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world,
with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes,
its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much
as an animal goes out to seek food. She held out her hand
frankly. And that happens through our maternity; it’s our
very importance that degrades us. Wood could not avoid making a
slight shuffling sound. It makes no difference. “My God!”
and ceased to move. Unlocking a cupboard, he then took out some cold meat and other viands, with a
flask of wine, and a bottle of brandy, and began to eat and drink voraciously.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 25-06-2024 05:04:50