“What ought she to do?” “Suppose you—” “Yes, suppose I—” He felt that his advice was being asked. "Help!—murder!—thieves!" screamed Mrs. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. Gold-handled, too. Even that he was an interfering person, if he walked through that door this moment, she would fling herself at him and weep all over his chest.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNC42NS4xNDggLSAxNC0wNy0yMDI0IDAyOjM0OjAwIC0gNjA5ODk4ODIy
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