It was just upon the stroke of nine as he entered the Lodge, and Mr. . His face brightened at the sight of her, and he came toward her. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present. Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon pie—the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due complement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot; a couple of lobsters and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a forest of fennel.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQwLjI0Mi4xMDggLSAwMS0wNi0yMDI0IDIxOjU1OjEwIC0gMTQ5Nzk3OTEwMA==
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