This incredible scene robbed him of the sense of locomotion. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. Her hand grasped it firmly, and she pushed herself forward. They chatted pleasantly as he drove around the neighborhood for a half an hour, then stopped by the Diedermayer house. She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOS4xMTIuNDYgLSAyOS0wNi0yMDI0IDAxOjE0OjQyIC0gODEyOTI5NDQ2
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