” He found her bra beneath his pillow and handed it to her. The fact that it was her trusted friend making illicit love to her remained, in spite of all her effort, an insignificant thing in her mind. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. Meantime, the Stone Hall was crowded by all the inmates of the jail, debtors, felons, turnkeys, and officers who could obtain permission to witness the ceremony of the prisoner's irons being struck off. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. Smith, now, being more than half-seas over, became very uproarious, and, claiming the attention of the table, volunteered the following DRINKING SONG.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMS43NC43MSAtIDEyLTA3LTIwMjQgMDM6MjA6NTMgLSAxMjQyMzEzMjc0
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