‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment. The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash.
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This video was uploaded to southwestbyways.info on 19-09-2024 05:17:26
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