\"His name is John
Diedermayer. Then suddenly he seized a new
preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a
week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it
across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the
bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of
re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. To be
sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that
shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if
all the world knew it. The dance
itself was anticlimactic, with teenagers trying their best to
look the part of adult sophisticates on the dance floor. They used
to marry us off at seventeen, rush us into things before we had time to protest. You don't realize what you have done. ‘It weren’t my wish, miss, I can tell you that. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again,
maybe she wasn't. She had prepared
herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. And as a
natural consequence, they don’t do so well, and they don’t get on—and so the
world doesn’t pay them. I
cannot do it, David. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a
chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's
'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. But I know very well that that word will never be spoken. “But
I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to. Previously to his descent he had left the nail and spike on the wall, and with
these he fastened the blanket to the stone coping.
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This video was uploaded to kooplokaalmontferland.info on 22-07-2024 02:46:38