His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. To use it as a passport to card-tables and gin-bottles! McClintock wasn't having any guests; at any rate, he had not mentioned the fact. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. Occasionally he revealed tidbits about his past after a good kill.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 20-09-2024 23:21:56
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