He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. "I likes to hear vot you says. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. The key's in the lock, on the inner side. And I have no more the pistol.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjE5MS4yOS4xNTEgLSAyNi0wNi0yMDI0IDEyOjI5OjU1IC0gMTc4OTIzMzM2MA==
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