There was a maiden aunt who lived in the North who might let her live there for a few weeks until she disappeared. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. After fifteen years, to find that peculiarly Occidental attribute—college loyalty—still alive in his heart! A Western idea that had survived; an idea that was merely the flower of youthful enthusiasm! With his hands still in his sleeves, his chin down in speculation over this phenomenon, he continued his patrol. But indeed that is not at all a good description of her attitude.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 08-09-2024 15:28:42
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