It’s—Mrs. ”
“You can’t be killed?” He asked. Most people, every one I
know else, seem to have mated with foreigners and to talk uneasily in unfamiliar
tongues, to be afraid of the knowledge the other one has, of the other one’s
perpetual misjudgment and misunderstandings. “Homely?”
“Well, yeah, that’s what he said. That shining
slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we
are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared
nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for
one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from
life and left it light and fire. Why hadn't he gone on with the girl's
story? What instinct had stuffed it back into his throat? Why the inexplicable
impulse to hurry this rather pathetic derelict on his way?
CHAPTER XV
Previous to his illness, Spurlock's mind had been tortured by an appalling worry,
so that now, in the process of convalescence, it might be compared to a pool
which had been violently stirred: there were indications of subsidence, but there
were still strange forms swirling on the surface—whims and fancies which in
normal times would never have risen above sub-consciousness. ’
‘Why did you not claim it yourself?’ asked Gerald. Exerting all his energies, and using the bar as a lever, he forced
off the iron band, which was full seven feet high, seven inches wide, and two
thick, and which brought with it in its fall the box of the lock and the socket of
the bolt, leaving no further hinderance. Like
appendicitis.
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This video was uploaded to golfrealestateonline.com on 15-07-2024 10:30:07