“I am sure, Anna,” she said, “I do not see why we should conceal the truth from you. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. McClintock says they can't get in there, or at least they never try it. At other times, it would seem that the sea itself had gone away. I'll leave these out, and to-morrow you can read them through. ” And then he speculated.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 22-09-2024 02:51:34
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