She could not run, her limbs were frozen. She loved to walk through the gardens, graced with columns that loomed overhead. I want to get away. Anna turned deliberately away from the bedside. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExNy43Mi4xNjUgLSAxMS0wNi0yMDI0IDAzOjExOjE4IC0gNjI2MjAyNDA4
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