The crowner's
'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she
would have been buried at four lane-ends. He was a
thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in
any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always
been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. She opened her mouth and inhaled water. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute
apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little
table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. . . Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured
meaningless phrases to soothe. "These are my terms, Sir Rowland," he added, taking a sheet of paper from his
pocket, and pushing it towards the knight. “I don’t have time for this. These and her
general preparations had perhaps a certain disproportion. But after all, what did it matter
whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and
one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols.
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This video was uploaded to golfrealestateonline.com on 16-07-2024 09:09:52