“I want to be your friend,” he said. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. ” She looked at him quizzically. “Please play something for us,” Carol asked, her eyes aglow. Next moment, he had Melusine by the arm. I don’t play anything. There were the burnt papers still in the grate.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTMzLjE0NS4yMTcgLSAxMy0wNi0yMDI0IDE0OjMwOjI4IC0gMTk3NzYzMTI5Mw==
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