"I thought we were going to have some music," she said. ‘Adieu, imbecile,’ she threw at him gleefully. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. One doesn’t want to lose a grain. She had removed her hat and utterly disarranged her already unruly black locks by running agitated fingers through them. Sooner or later she’s going to run away again, and I want Frith to follow her and find out where she’s living. “All’s well that ends well,” he said; “and the less one says about things the better.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1LjE3NC4xODMgLSAwOS0wNi0yMDI0IDEyOjI3OjAyIC0gMTk3NjE1MzQ2Mw==
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