No—you shall come with me to Waterloo. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. There was a long silence between them. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. It was the one that she had sworn she’d throw out, if only Julian had not liked it so much. Or run me through. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. White,” she remarked.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTUuMjYuMTU5IC0gMTMtMDktMjAyNCAwMTozMTo0NyAtIDQyNDI4OTA1MQ==
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 09-09-2024 06:20:37
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9