You never can tell. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. “And for me it has been Pride and Pride and Pride! “I am the prodigal daughter. But one of these days everything will click back into place. So here I am, king of all I survey, with a predilection for poker, a scorched liver, and a piano-player. You make yourself charming for help. But if I painted her as I'd like to, the natives would instantly distrust me; and I'd have to build up confidence all over again. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. He became ugly and monstrous, dunning her, threatening her, assailing her.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ3LjYxLjMgLSAwMi0wNi0yMDI0IDEwOjM4OjI2IC0gOTA1NDA5Njgw
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