” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. " At this moment, Saint Sepulchre's clock struck six. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 25-09-2024 14:44:47