He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. Never was heard such a bawling as these unfortunate wights kept up. She could not move. I don’t want to influence you unduly—But—They’re artistic people, Vee. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMi4zOS4xNTYgLSAyNC0wNy0yMDI0IDE0OjIzOjQ4IC0gOTYxMDE5MzU0
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