The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. I’ve had my time and lost my chances. She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression. You forget that every one is going to the ‘Unusual’ to see her. I will do my utmost. It isn’t. But I don't understand her; she's over my head. To perdition with them all. We may be stopped. Young and old were dressed in their gayest apparel; and it was evident from the smiles that lighted up every countenance, from the roguish looks of the younger swains, and the demure expression of several pretty rustic maidens, that a ceremony, which never fails to interest all classes,—a wedding,—was about to take place. ‘It is in no way your affair, monsieur, and you will unhand me at once.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMS4xNDUuODUgLSAwMS0wNi0yMDI0IDIzOjAxOjQ3IC0gMTU1MDAzMjM4Ng==
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