The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. ‘I do not steal,’ declared the lady hotly. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. ‘Never mind that now. For nothing they kiss. Mademoiselle has had no harm of me,’ Gerald said soothingly and bowed. She counted three on the way to the train and four more on the crowded car that would have gladly taken him to bed with not so much as a word.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 09-09-2024 12:39:27
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