‘I do not believe you. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. Sepulchre's clock struck eight. Only, he'll be an interesting specimen for me to observe. ‘You are a born rebel, ma’am, and I can see now where she gets it from.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM4LjE3NC4yMzUgLSAzMC0wNi0yMDI0IDE0OjI2OjMyIC0gMjA2MDQyMjcx
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