He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. Acne sprayed her cheeks in a fine red spatter where it intermingled with brown freckles. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxOS45OS4yOCAtIDAyLTA2LTIwMjQgMDQ6MzM6NTMgLSAxMDc1Njg4NzQ4
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