Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. He wanted to put on his overcoat and come after you and look for you—in London. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly. I have been sitting with him ever since. She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 03:27:42