She stopped abruptly, and looked in a flower-shop window. It penetrated the skin; benumbed the flesh; paralysed the faculties. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 22-09-2024 14:42:04
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