‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. " Casting one look of anguish at his leader, Blueskin then darted down the passage. "That's odd. “Of course. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. She was the first to recover herself. It was his particular hobby, and the leisure he had to apply to it had given him a remarkable appraising eye. He had the appearance of a man who has known no rest for many nights.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNy4xMTEuNTggLSAxOC0wNS0yMDI0IDAwOjQ3OjU2IC0gMTgxMzI2NTIxMw==
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