‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. His statement was treated with derision. His destination was the New Mint. Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. What was the wench at? Yet he could not maintain this stand off forever. It made her hungry. He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTMzLjE2MS4yMDYgLSAxNy0wNy0yMDI0IDIwOjI0OjQ1IC0gMTYxMDQ5MjA3
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