“Lift up one corner of the curtain for me. "What good would it do you to destroy me? For I have courage to kill myself. You called yourself a murderess. I will go to-night. "I didn't awake you, because you seemed tired. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. Not a bad man as men go, but he would sell whisky and gin. ‘But so also it is downstairs. And it’s no good pretending there is one when there isn’t. None at all. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM0LjEwNC4xODggLSAwMi0wNi0yMDI0IDIyOjE3OjUxIC0gMTEyMTIwOTI2OQ==
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