" "Impossible, dear Mrs. “I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. . I was forced to lay on a bed of nails for three days. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. There indeed you see Monte Rosa. Gold-handled, too. All I had to do was to piece them together. “She must be warned. ” “It seems so—so unworthy”—she picked among her phrases “of the noble love you give—” She stopped, through the difficulty she found in expressing herself.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxOC41NS4yNiAtIDE5LTA1LTIwMjQgMTg6NTQ6NDMgLSAxODg3NjAwODcx
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