Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. “I don’t think I CAN do that,” she said. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river. She was going through with that, anyhow. The raising of twenty-five pounds was a task altogether beyond her powers. . ’ Kimble’s widening gaze told its own tale, but still he kept his fingers on the handle of the door.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOC4xNDIuNjAgLSAxMC0wNi0yMDI0IDIyOjMxOjExIC0gNzc2ODAzNTA4
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