“I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. “Nor am I now,” he answered. Capes and her father stood up, and her father made a belated movement toward the curtain. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. The shock and distress were genuine.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTcuNzguMTEgLSAyMi0wNy0yMDI0IDA4OjA0OjE3IC0gNTg2NzUyMzQ4
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