And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. Miss Stanley had determined from the outset to have the warmest affection for her youngest niece and to be a second mother in her life—a second and a better one; but she had found much to battle with, and there was much in herself that Ann Veronica failed to understand. One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. "Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 12-09-2024 16:57:15
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