And then, there would be the question of money. A little Cockney recovered it, and made ridiculous attempts to get to her and
replace it. . . It must have
been impossible to see me through that much rain. But in its stead—toward
morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime,
appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the
poet and the novelist in him. “Lucy! You found me! I was just about to sleep some
of those rum and Cokes off like the pig I am. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face,
and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a
sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not
recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind,
the word “meretricious. I
bear the marks of some of them about me still," he continued, taking off his wig,
and laying bare a bald skull, covered with cicatrices and plates of silver. “You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be
such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 02-07-2024 04:09:40