She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires. Beneath that tree let us lie. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. As though accidentally she swept her skirts from a chair close drawn to her own. He turned, and beheld Winifred. She rose, paid her bill, and turned westwards. But it is that I have a very bad temper, you understand. The thing rankled in her mind night and day.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQyLjE5NS4xNiAtIDI2LTA2LTIwMjQgMDE6NTA6MTYgLSAxNjk4NzY5Mzk4
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