"They imagine their work is done. He helped himself to a beer, then a vodka and tonic, then two rum and Cokes. You know—I worship you. " "No," cried the lady, "this room—I recollect—it has a back window. Nothing but the constraint of social usage now linked him to her. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. "When is he to suffer?" she demanded, fixing her large black eyes, which burnt with an insane gleam, upon him. “Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. “Kick aht at ‘em!” though, indeed, she went now with Christian meekness, resenting only the thrusting policemen’s hands.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTIuMTUzLjE5NyAtIDA1LTA3LTIwMjQgMDM6MjQ6MzEgLSA4NDUzMDQ0MQ==
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