Can you kill yourself?” He asked quietly. “Very good,” he said. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. No one. He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. Spurling, as if struck by a sudden idea. The situation bothered him considerably. "What good would it do you to destroy me? For I have courage to kill myself. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers.
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This video was uploaded to adiszena.com on 28-06-2024 01:47:40
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