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At length, she suddenly started to her feet; and before Winifred could prevent her, staggered up to Thames. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 21-09-2024 13:17:00
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