The chamber rang with her shrieks. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM5LjgwLjIwOSAtIDI4LTA5LTIwMjQgMjE6NTI6NTEgLSA2MTgyNDk3ODA=
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 25-09-2024 05:55:59