Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty,
nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as
blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he
led her to the altar some twenty years ago. Abruptly the sterner look
vanished and she twinkled. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of
black-covered books and the pig’s skull. His five o’clock shadow was bristly
against her fingers. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow
of the excellent Madeira before responding. As she talked she made weak
little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent
shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a
photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. She glimpsed
Chinese penury when she entered a square given over to the fishmongers. Perhaps that is why I
lost my ambition.
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This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 22-07-2024 00:58:00