She wondered wildly why she had stood up. Every moment or two he bent over his patient. “No, that’s fine. ’ The lashes fluttered demurely. But finding his hints totally disregarded, he, at length, swaggered up to the table, and thrust in a chair. “Annabel?” he exclaimed. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. Come. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTYuNzguMTEgLSAwNi0wNy0yMDI0IDE4OjUyOjUxIC0gMzc5MTQ5OTk5
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