" Bamboo and bead tinkled and slithered behind him. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. He gripped the window-sill behind him. “Does he know that I am involved with someone?” “Of course he knows. And, stretching out his hand, he lifted the dark object from the flood. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNS45Mi4xODQgLSAyOC0wNi0yMDI0IDE1OjE3OjE4IC0gMTU0NzkyNDkwOQ==
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