She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass. On this second excursion, forewarned, she would use no light and keep as quiet as a mouse, she vowed, and thus refrain from attracting the attention of the militia at the gates. He drew her to him and tipped her chin towards him. Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. "All is prepared. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. I want to be whatever I can to you.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ0LjQyLjIwMCAtIDI5LTA2LTIwMjQgMTM6NDM6MTQgLSAxMjg5OTA1NjU2
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