His head bent down, intent on kissing her underneath the showerhead. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. "Ah!" she screamed, seeing the uplifted weapon in Sheppard's hand, "don't hurt Thames—don't, dear Jack! If you want to kill somebody, kill me, not him. I trust you will not accuse me of discourtesy if I express my pleasure that henceforth our ways will lie apart. He could hardly open the envelope, he trembled so. She was in ill trim for walking, but somehow or other she made her way as far as the Champs Elysées, and sank down upon an empty seat.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxOS4xODUuNjcgLSAxNS0wNi0yMDI0IDE2OjI1OjIzIC0gMTI4NTQ2OTQwOA==
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