A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom— especially the females—leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit. ‘They cannot help it. The girl in the forward chair raised herself a little, the better to see the gorgeous blue palanquin of the dimly visible bride. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. The Times slipped from his fingers.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1LjE2MS40MiAtIDAxLTA3LTIwMjQgMDc6MDk6MzAgLSAxMzQ4ODI3MDY5
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