She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified. His eyes were fixed upon her face, but he opened his lips twice before he spoke. And now, only twenty-four hours behind him … that is, if he wasn't paddling by on the return route to Hong-Kong or had dropped down to Macao. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. It’s not a bit of good pretending there’s any Higher Truth or wonderful principle in this business. I have been sitting with him ever since.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 22:08:41