” Anna shrugged her shoulders lightly. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. I didn’t believe him and I said so. There was a hint of tears in her voice. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you. “May you have as much good fortune as you deserve, but not enough to make you forget us. He had not addressed to her even the most ordinary courtesy of fellow travellers; she doubted that he was even aware of her existence.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1LjE2Ni4xNDkgLSAyMS0wOS0yMDI0IDExOjQ0OjExIC0gMTExMTMzNzMxNQ==
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 16-09-2024 19:17:58
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8