Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. Blood dripped down one side of her forehead. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. “Indeed, you could have no more faithful friend, you could find no one more anxious to serve you. The person caught hold of his arm, and, in spite of his efforts to disengage himself, detained him. ’ ‘Parbleu,’ exclaimed the girl, jumping up in some dudgeon.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExNi44OS44MSAtIDIwLTA1LTIwMjQgMTM6MzI6NTcgLSAxMDIyMjUwNTU0
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