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“My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. The plank hung over his
head. The hand which the man
had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. Ann Veronica
found herself incompetent, undignified, and detestable, holding on desperately to
a hardening antagonism to her father, quarrelling with him, wrangling with him,
thinking of repartees—almost as if he was a brother. I spied a small picture of them in
your house, though. Why
wasn't the world full of love, when love made happiness? Why did people hide
their natural kindliness as if it were something shameful? Why shouldn't people
say what they thought and act as they were inclined? Why all this pother about
what one's neighbour thought, when this pother was not energized by any good
will? Why was truth avoided as the plague? Why did this young man have one
name on the hotel register and another on his lips? Why was she bothering about
him at all? Why should there be this inexplicable compassion, when the normal
sensation should have been repellance? Sidney Carton.
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This video was uploaded to desenez.net on 06-07-2024 03:12:23