Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. "I think I may trust him with you, Sir," added she, taking up the candle. “It is very doubtful,” he said. "I was coming to give you intelligence of a comical trick played by this rascal, when I find him here—the last place, I own, where I should have expected to find him. ‘Why, that’s one of the names with which she tried to fob me off. This is one of the late E. “What did it matter?” she cried. In a sense it alters nothing. It was the last thing she felt like drinking. Now what I want you to feel is this.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOS4xMTEuNzAgLSAxMy0wNi0yMDI0IDE4OjExOjIzIC0gMTQ1NTYxMTI5Mg==
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