“I wish you would not do it. Pancras,” she directed, promptly. She did most urgently desire to save her face in Morningside Park, and for long hours she could think of no way of putting it that would not be in the nature of unconditional admission of defeat. I tore the marriage certificate from his pocket and burnt it. Presently she saw Spurlock on the way to the lagoon. He stooped to recover it, and his face was hidden. It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step. What she admired in her man was his resolute defense of his opinions. He kissed her once on the lips with a passion of which, during all their days of married life, he had given no sign. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. She kept her face downcast. Occasionally he relit his pipe. “If it will keep you busy,” he said, with a faintly ironical smile. “Impossible to say,” he answered.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNi45Ni4xNTUgLSAyMS0wOS0yMDI0IDIyOjQ2OjMxIC0gMTI0MDAxNzkzMg==
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 17-09-2024 18:10:20
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8