Frequently he would take up a box of talc and send a shower down his back, or fill his palms with the powder and rub his face and arms and hands. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. He made a movement toward her, and then recalled the circumstances of their last conversation in that study. 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.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 05:26:19