He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. . The moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day. It was a night of storm and terror, which promised each moment to become more stormy and more terrible. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. "I'm going back for Ruth. It was easy enough to lie to anyone else. ‘Then I am not mad in the least.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjE4OS4xOTIuMTkgLSAwNi0wNy0yMDI0IDA3OjEwOjQ0IC0gNjMyMTQxMzM0
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