Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. “That’s what you’re going to wear. He had taken it back. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. . At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNi4xNTkuMjE0IC0gMjAtMDctMjAyNCAwNTo0Mzo0NSAtIDUxNjQ1MjA1OA==
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