She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. Spurling, half aside. Make up your mind as to the terms, and I'll engage to find the man. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. Look at it, I say.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTUuMTQxLjI1MCAtIDE0LTA3LTIwMjQgMDU6MDY6NDkgLSAxMTUyMzE2OTAy
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