Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. Annabel turned on the electric light and made her way into the sitting-room. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. The winter had turned sea and sky to a wet gray. I'll tote it myself. This way, Sir Rowland.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxOS42NC4xNzIgLSAyMi0wOS0yMDI0IDAyOjMwOjQwIC0gODE2MTEzMjk3
This video was uploaded to thiruvalluvan.com on 18-09-2024 18:20:23
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10 - Ref11 - Ref12