‘Do
you know, Mademoiselle Charvill, you are a thought too clever for your own
good. “Only four spoonsful left,” she declared briskly, “and your turn to buy the next
pound, Sydney. “Good God!” he exclaimed. His invalid wife and her
money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that
permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine
experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. One marked difference
between the poor outcast, who, oppressed by poverty, and stung by shame, had
sought temporary relief in the stupifying draught,—that worst "medicine of a
mind diseased,"—and those of the same being, freed from her vices, and restored
to comfort and contentment, if not to happiness, by a more prosperous course of
events, was exhibited in the mouth. Her heart thudded.
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This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 15-07-2024 01:38:25