. Why, is the question I would like answered. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExNi40MC4xNzcgLSAyNy0wNC0yMDI0IDAzOjQzOjE1IC0gNTgzNzkzMjE2
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