She did not think for one moment what interpretation he might put upon the word “lover. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. Considering how little he lets her have. Like a petulant child he snapped. It does sound a little horrid to talk so much about oneself and to have views. She walked with an easy quickness down the Avenue and through the proletarian portion of Morningside Park, and crossing these fields came into a pretty overhung lane that led toward Caddington and the Downs. She caught at the idea. " He departed, musing. “One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. My very sentences stumble and give way.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOS4xMzYuMTQ2IC0gMjktMDYtMjAyNCAwNToxOToyNiAtIDU3MjU0OTI4
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