I was born of one Suzanne Valade and an Englishman, Nicholas Charvill. Annabel, I was lying. And, if Rachel had not carried a candle, the room would have been plunged in total darkness. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. I want to boast myself. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ2LjI1NS4zMCAtIDE0LTA2LTIwMjQgMDE6MzU6MzAgLSAxODQ4ODE3NTUz
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