Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. What he told the vicomte I was not privileged to learn. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. “You will not object,” he said, glancing towards her, “to accepting a deposit. " He offered cigars, and Ruth got up. I took the money myself, and ought to know. Always I have said I will take care of myself, and I have done so. ‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM5Ljc5LjIxMyAtIDMwLTA2LTIwMjQgMDE6MTM6NDAgLSAxMDAxNjM0MDM1
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