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Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 16-05-2024 05:45:23
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