“Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. It seems that he was a sort of family friend of the Pellissiers, and it was the artist sister whom he was with. He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. Winifred, accordingly, left the room, and a servant being despatched to the nearest tavern, soon afterwards returned with a crown bowl of the ambrosian fluid.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 20-09-2024 15:30:00
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