It is an old song she chooses, and simple as old, and sweet as simple. I almost forget the words now, but I know it runs in this wise:
cricwall, At the sound of the twelfth stroke the hounds stir uneasily, and sigh, and, opening wide their huge jaws, yawn again. Mona pats them reassuringly: and, flinging some fresh logs upon the fire, goes back once more to her old position, with her chin in the palm of one hand, whilst the other rests on the sleek head of Spice.
◆ Messages, Voice
cricwall, Video
cricwall
Enjoy voice and video
cricwall "Blow me to atoms, perhaps, or into some region unknown," says he, recklessly. "A good thing, too. Is life so sweet a possession that one need quail before the thought of resigning it?".
**********