He came to her at once, and turning, walked by her side. Breakfast was laid for one, a dish of fruit and a shining coffee equipage. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1Ljk0LjE1OSAtIDEwLTA2LTIwMjQgMDY6NTI6MjMgLSAxMTEwMDE1NjA1
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