She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. I shall borrow it and apply it to you, Hilary. Melusine cursed herself for his injury. The action steadied him; and there was a phase of irony, too, that helped. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream.
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This video was uploaded to pok-ddal23.live on 17-07-2024 10:52:24
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