The Scotchman informed Ann
Veronica that your view of beauty necessarily depended on your metaphysical
premises, and the young man with the Russell-like hair became anxious to
distinguish himself by telling the Japanese student that Western art was
symmetrical and Eastern art asymmetrical, and that among the higher organisms
the tendency was toward an external symmetry veiling an internal want of
balance. Oh, it was
very bad. It became a sort of duel at last between them, and all the
others sat and listened—every one, that is, except the Alderman, who had got the
blond young man into a corner by the green-stained dresser with the aluminum
things, and was sitting with his back to every one else, holding one hand over his
mouth for greater privacy, and telling him, with an accent of confidential
admission, in whispers of the chronic struggle between the natural modesty and
general inoffensiveness of the Borough Council and the social evil in
Marylebone. “What you have done. I know he
is dead. ”
“You didn’t. "Begone! or I fire!" he cried. She would not sleep for fear of losing a
moment of that sense of his proximity. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous
pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make
some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had
opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say
that was in the least sincere and appealing. “As she asked!”
“It is already too late. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his
coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be
nigh. Your pets are gone.
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This video was uploaded to ladyboyroad.com on 07-07-2024 19:06:00