I find it impossible to associate you with—my
little friend of the ‘Ambassador’s. She had,
by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and
her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the
deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of
the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts
defying the elements. I've often seen them storming the Carnegie Hall stage. Sometimes it seemed that she would never recover it. "But never mind who, or what I am. "Suppose we go and have tea?
I'd like to take you to a teahouse I know, but we'll go to the
Victoria instead. You have grown into
my life. “I do not think that he is quite dead.
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This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 05-07-2024 00:12:10