“Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. She had been forced to buy herself that pair of boots and a walking-skirt, and the pearl necklace at the pawnbrokers’ had yielded very disappointingly. Speak lower. \" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. If by any chance I have made a mistake a word will bring me to you.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjE5MS42OC41MCAtIDIwLTA1LTIwMjQgMDY6MzY6NDYgLSAxNTg5NTQwMjgy
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