Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. “Soul to soul. . Another long interval elapsed. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. You lie about your past all the time and you know it. The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. In the end he broke his own heart along with your mother's.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMi4xMDguMTkgLSAwOC0wNy0yMDI0IDIxOjE4OjE2IC0gMTYxMjAzMzY1OA==
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