"My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. None presented themselves to save him from that return. ’ ‘What name would you like, then?’ Her shadowed features turned in his direction. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ0LjIzMC44MiAtIDA2LTA1LTIwMjQgMTQ6MTI6MDAgLSAxNjMwMTE5NjU2
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