"No prize shall indushe me to enter dat horrid plashe again. "This locket," he said, taking a little ornament attached to a black ribband from his breast, and giving it her,—"do you remember it?" "I do—I do!" cried Winifred. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. She was obliged to concede that his features were pleasing, his strength and vitality attractive; and there was no denying how well this uniform of a militia suited his figure, which was lean and powerful both. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQyLjE5Ny4yMTIgLSAwMi0wNi0yMDI0IDIzOjE2OjE5IC0gMTMyNDA3OTMxNA==
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