“I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. . As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. "Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?" "What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. " This she did carefully, but inwardly commenting that he was still in the realm of strange fancies.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOS4xNjQuMTc2IC0gMjQtMDYtMjAyNCAxNDozMzoyNiAtIDQxNTQ2MjcxMg==
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