She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed. “Think of the mockery!” she said. ’ ‘But, no,’ She dimpled. She vanished from the laboratory for a week, a week of oddly interesting days. Besides, I don't think he's going to ask, if that is what you are getting at. Men do services for the love of women, and the woman who takes must pay.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDEzLjU5LjExNC4xMDAgLSAxMy0wNi0yMDI0IDExOjA3OjEyIC0gNTQyMjg2Njc2
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