The child was still safe. She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. “I thought you weren’t getting along so well with your mother these days. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDEzLjU4LjIyMS4xMDUgLSAxMC0wNi0yMDI0IDAxOjQzOjQ5IC0gNjIyMzMwMzkz
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