Anna was still holding her cigarette between her fingers. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. They sat down at the dining room table which seemed empty and 259 huge in the stark, white-walled room. She screamed involuntarily—she had never in her life screamed before—and then she began to wriggle and fight like a frightened animal against the men who were holding her. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTMzLjE1NS4yMTYgLSAxMS0wNi0yMDI0IDE0OjIxOjU5IC0gMjAzMzkxOTg4OQ==
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