“You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. This smile was more harrowing even than her former rigid look. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. " "Let me touch you, then; let me feel if you are really flesh and blood," cried the poor maniac, creeping towards him on all fours. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTcuMTg3LjE5MyAtIDAxLTA3LTIwMjQgMDk6Mjk6NDQgLSAxMzc3MjQ2MDY2
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