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I walked London till the soles of my shoes were worn through, and my toes were blistered. Gerald stood quite still for a moment or two, listening intently. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. It would not have interested him in the least to learn that the tub ran on two powers—wind and oil. Instead, they appeared to be at the hygienic level of tramps’ lodging-houses.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 13:53:15