“Not much. But we were both pledged to secrecy, and I couldn’t reveal my part for fear that I would lose my place. Our ideal had fallen. I found the door locked as usual, but when we entered this room everything was as you see. From the centre of the ceiling hung a replica of the temple lamp in the Taj Mahal. On a sudden, a change came over her countenance, which, up to this moment, had worn a smiling and satisfied expression. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. To-morrow I shall come and talk to you again—of other things. The continuity was frequently broken in upon by diversory suppositions.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQzLjQuMjQxIC0gMjItMDctMjAyNCAwNjoxOTo0OSAtIDg1NTIzOTIyOQ==
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