’ ‘How do you do?’ Gerald said pleasantly, stepping from the pillared portico and coming down the shallow stairway. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. ” She smiled. I get the feeling that you are special, so alone, so beautiful that I must get to the bottom of you if it takes my whole life. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOS4xMjUuMTQgLSAwMS0wNy0yMDI0IDAzOjMxOjA1IC0gMzM3NTAwMTk1
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