" This business over, she returned to the bedside with the key. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. As the body was borne to the house in the arms of the farming-men, Mr. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. I went with him to what I supposed to be the British Embassy, and went through a ceremony which I understood to be the usual form of the marriage one used there.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxOC4yMC4yNSAtIDAyLTA2LTIwMjQgMjM6NDU6MDEgLSAxODUyNjc2OTU2
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