He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. Blueskin, however, was not unattended. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxNi44Ny4xNTYgLSAxMS0wNi0yMDI0IDA3OjAwOjM3IC0gODcxMDgyNDIx
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