Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. “Well——” She stopped short. Was he really awake? The arrival and departure of this strange father lacked the essential human touch to make it real. . Taking the wind was her business in life. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. “If one was free,” she said, “one could go to him. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQyLjIxMi4yMDcgLSAyMi0wNy0yMDI0IDA4OjI1OjE3IC0gMTcwMDQxNzgxMg==
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