I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. It was you who were so much amazed that I did not try—the music hall stage here. That’s the difficulty. 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. But they were old enough to start remembering you as mother, and we cannot have that.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjE5MS4xNzguNTEgLSAxNS0wNi0yMDI0IDIwOjQ2OjMzIC0gNzc0NTM5NjE1
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