" The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. Above her head was an aura of white fire. And here are these places, full of contagion! “Of course, this is the real texture of life, this is what we refined secure people forget. He must preserve it, however, as they preserved the Ark of the Covenant. ’ ‘You mean the one that you refused to feed?’ demanded Gerald, seizing this promising cue and adopting a mournful note. The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. But let the horses be in readiness.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTMzLjExNC42MyAtIDA3LTA3LTIwMjQgMDg6NTM6MTQgLSAxNjAxMTUxMTU5
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