Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. ‘No!’ Melusine snapped as he tugged at the thing.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM4LjM1LjIwNCAtIDA5LTA2LTIwMjQgMDg6MTc6MDQgLSAxNDMzNjU4NjU4
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