A woman may choose any one for her lover, but for her friend she makes no mistake. If she has no children, she goes on loving her husband; but he is no longer a man but a child. “Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. It was she—— Anna’s nerves were not easily shaken, but she found herself suddenly clutching at the table for support. You called yourself a murderess.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 02-10-2024 06:05:32