“Where am I?” he muttered. His pipe hung dead in his teeth, but the smoke was dense about him. “I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. I dare say anything seemed better to her than the nun’s habit she had been obliged to use. Yet he stays. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. See what you have made of me.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOC4yNTQuMjggLSAxMi0wNS0yMDI0IDEwOjIzOjM2IC0gNTY3MTkzNTUy
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