The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. She rapped on Michelle’s door loudly. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. I studied violin with a teacher when I was younger,” she said. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. The ring's yours, and you're mine. As it is, I'm not sorry for the blunder.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTcuMTU2LjIzMSAtIDIxLTA1LTIwMjQgMTE6NTc6NTQgLSAxMTkxNjc1OTcy
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