"It's an odd-shaped one," rejoined Kneebone, examining it attentively. He saw his father, calling to him from an icy white tunnel, beckoning to him. She blushed prettily, and in a moment regained command of her tongue. She threw the bags of marijuana and a tiny bag of white powder he had in the sewer, unfortunately they were his only worldly possessions. He returned, \"Can I walk you home then?\" She was completely taken aback and did her best not to show it. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. Too late she realised that Emile was not trying to escape. She—She can snub him. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM1LjIwMS4yNDggLSAxMC0wNi0yMDI0IDE1OjI3OjMzIC0gMTU2MDI2NTIzOQ==
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