To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video
I’ve seen Brewis Charvill, by the by. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. But, not daring to confess his want of comprehension, he made a profound reverence, and retired. These women could not be bad, else the hotel would not have permitted them to enter! Still, the scene presented a riddle: to give immunity to the black women who went about all but naked and to damn the white for exposing their shoulders! She had eaten but little; all her hunger had been in her eyes—and in her heart.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM2LjE4LjIxOCAtIDI5LTA5LTIwMjQgMDQ6NDM6MDUgLSA3MDkzNTg1MTg=
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 20:44:28