"There won't be much left for you," he said. Sorrows and danger and disappointment she had known. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. ‘The sisters here will not save you. She went across to the little window again, her back to Melusine. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. Jonathan looked in that direction, and beheld the fugitives riding off in triumph. God would have taken mercy on her baby, seeing that she had already had too much pain and that he had taken her beloved mother. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMjIuNjYuNzggLSAwMi0wNi0yMDI0IDE2OjE4OjI3IC0gODM3NDk3NjA0
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