It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs.
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This video was uploaded to twincitieshomes.info on 17-09-2024 01:34:04
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