He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. ” “Mr. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. “To me it seems serious enough. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke.
Video ID: Y2xhdWRlYm90IC0gMy4xMzMuMTQ3Ljg3IC0gMTYtMDQtMjAyNCAxODoxMDo0MCAtIDIyMTcwODQw
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