Looking sullen, he released the handle and sat back. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. “The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared. He lowered his voice a little and leaned over towards her. Somehow to-night—I don’t know.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjE5MS4xMjguMjIgLSAxOS0wNS0yMDI0IDIyOjA1OjMxIC0gMjA2MDU1MTcwOA==
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