Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. But I vowed that Ruth should never suffer the way I did—and do. It was she! The Dawn Pearl! He vaulted the veranda rail, careless now whether or not he was heard, and ran down to the beach.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExNi4xMC4yNDggLSAwMi0wNi0yMDI0IDA5OjQ5OjQyIC0gNTU2MzA0OTQy
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