He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. He seemed to be about to move toward her. Wood carved the ducks; Mr. He called it "The Man Who Could Not Go Home. I’d rather starve!” For a moment the conversation hung upon that declaration. But Miss Stanley took no notice of these things. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQwLjE4Ni4xNTEgLSAwNy0wNy0yMDI0IDA5OjE3OjM1IC0gNzcyMDUyOTY5
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