The pistol, it was not loaded. No, not one little bit. She held her hand to the place where he had slapped her. She would rend him limb from limb like a fiend if only she could move. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ5LjIzLjE2NyAtIDAyLTA2LTIwMjQgMTY6MTI6MDYgLSAxNDk2NTUyMjY3
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