I pray you, in your letters, When 你 these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice. Then must 你 speak Of one that loved not wisely but too well; Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought, Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand, Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away
Othello, Act V, Lines 389-396 William Shakespeare
I stood in the shadows, waiting calmly. Five 更多 minutes. Five 更多 分钟 of this unendurable agony.
Part of me wished Rosalie hadn't made the phone call. Part of me wished I didn't know....