Ruth wore a printed cotton kimono. She is the image of what I was like, and she has a better voice. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. The spinsters offered a good example of how singular each human being is, despite the fact that in sisters the basic corpuscle is the same. I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. ’ A radiant smile dawned.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQwLjE5OC4xMiAtIDIxLTA1LTIwMjQgMDE6NDY6MTkgLSAxNjcyNzg2MDcw
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