“And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. That would come later. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. ’ ‘Lord, man, it’s only a scratch!’ Suddenly Gerald snapped his fingers. Fresh flowers of loveliness have budded, expanded, died. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExNy44MC4yMzYgLSAwMy0wNi0yMDI0IDEwOjAyOjU2IC0gOTA4MTA0OTUy
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