He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. The following morning found him in the doctor's waiting room, a black cigar turning unlighted in his teeth. He saw Enschede, making the empty sea, alone, alone, forever alone. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 19:52:55