A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. ” At this point she had perceived that she was drifting from her subject. Only first you must find the lantern and light it again and leave it here, near the door, for me to find. In and out of consciousness she sailed, hearing voices from memory that she could not distinguish from reality. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQwLjE4NS4zNyAtIDA3LTA3LTIwMjQgMDg6MDU6NDIgLSAxMTc5OTIxMTQ5
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