“Ann Veronica,” he said. "Come to me!" cried the poor maniac, who had crawled as far as the chain would permit her,—"come to me!" she cried, extending her thin arm towards him. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face. The city presented a terrible picture of devastation.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1LjE2NS4xNDQgLSAwMi0wNi0yMDI0IDIxOjUyOjI5IC0gMTk4Nzk3NTg1Nw==
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