A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. “Yes! I must! The thing is becoming a torture to me. “If you say so, Lucy. On a sudden, a change came over her countenance, which, up to this moment, had worn a smiling and satisfied expression. ” He plunged into one of his drawers, and brought up a small gold-foiled bottle.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxNy44MC4xMTEgLSAyMi0wNy0yMDI0IDEwOjM3OjA1IC0gNTIxMjY5ODgx
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