She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. I only know that it is right to do what I do. I keep my finger on the pulse of things. The fates are never so kind to me. She decided that she would try to push whatever resolve he had in the car to see where it would lead. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. There he stands. “Why don’t you?” “Well, it might mean rather a row. Nothing to check their proceedings but a declining habit of telling the truth and the limitations of their imaginations. A curious silence ensued. I can't give you my hand; but you may take it.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExNi40Ny4yNTEgLSAwMS0wNi0yMDI0IDIyOjA2OjA5IC0gNjAwOTkyNDM5
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