To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video
" For some reason she did not then understand, Ruth did not offer the information that Taber had another name. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. It is no crime, none at all. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together. When I am leading a true life, a pure and simple life free of all stimulants and excitements, I think—I think— oh! with pellucid clearness; but if I so much as take a mouthful of meat—or anything—the mirror is all blurred.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNi4zNC4xOTcgLSAyNS0wOS0yMDI0IDIwOjI0OjIzIC0gMTI0NjM4MTc2NA==
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 22-09-2024 10:21:37