She had never been able to discover where her father had hidden his shaving mirror. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. Opening her large black eyes, she fixed them upon him for a moment with a mixture of terror and loathing, and then averted her gaze. “Don’t be too sure of that,” she answered enigmatically. She knew Martha would not ask anything that she did not wish to know.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ3LjI3LjE4NCAtIDE3LTA3LTIwMjQgMjI6Mjg6MzggLSAxMjk5NjgyOTEx
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