Chapter IV
THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST
“You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna
said lightly. Marina gently passed the swaddled infant
to his mother, who sat down on the bed proudly to nurse
the baby, extracting a fat breast from her heavy gown. The very
carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the
bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. Gerald did not know who she was, but he knew who she was not. ’
‘I thought so,’ Gerald said with satisfaction. I want to be a human being; I want to
learn about things and know about things, and not to be protected as something
too precious for life, cooped up in one narrow little corner. "I am utterly lost. ”
Anna nodded. “But, of course, she may have come from one
of the other flats.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ0LjEwOC4zMiAtIDIyLTA3LTIwMjQgMTA6NTQ6MjEgLSA5MTMxNzkzNw==
This video was uploaded to kooplokaalmontferland.info on 20-07-2024 01:12:04