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" "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. I want you to be my lover. If you do not find your aunt, my people will take you under wing until you can stand on your own.
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This video was uploaded to thiruvalluvan.com on 18-09-2024 03:33:53
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