. . It appeared he had already ordered dinner and wine, and the whiskered waiter waved in his subordinate with the soup forthwith. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. Stanley’s acquaintance in the train and shown him one or two trifling civilities. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the "Welsh Trumpeter. Winifred's reception was kind, but more distant, and after the slight ceremonial she resumed her occupation. To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1LjE5OS4xOSAtIDExLTA2LTIwMjQgMDg6MTQ6NDkgLSAxODEwNjgzNjgx
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