“I have made no progress with my work,” she said slowly, “and the money was gone. If so I shall have to leave. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. “I think that’s the right name. We’re hard stuff!” Then she went on: “To think that is my father! Oh, my dear! He stood over me like a cliff; the thought of him nearly turned me aside from everything we have done. ’ She ended on a note of sheer frustration, clenched fists beating the air. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. I’m sorry.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTI5LjcxLjIwMCAtIDE4LTA2LTIwMjQgMDU6MzI6MjUgLSAxNjE4NzYxMDk2
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