The hurricane had now reached its climax. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharples that the carpenter and his companion could gain admittance to the round-house. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. You MUST not, you SHALL not go. “This is all rot!” he declared angrily. You can’t go.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDEzLjU4LjcyLjkxIC0gMTAtMDYtMjAyNCAwOToxMzowMCAtIDU1MzA5MTA5Nw==
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