Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. “Are you going to the Vorsack’s for dinner tonight?” “Yes, I think I’ll stop by. I always say that it’s poverty before everything that makes a girl skip the line. You couldn’t help it. The performance over, he relaxed and closed his eyes.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM3LjIxNC4xOTQgLSAwOS0wNi0yMDI0IDE1OjA2OjQyIC0gOTgwMzIyMDAy
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