"But what, may I ask, arouses the thought?" The doctor was in high good humour. . . It was perfectly logical. . But he looked back into the hall and spoke to the sergeant who could just be seen behind him. ’ Colour suffused the man’s face. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. In mailing the tales he had not enclosed return postage or the equivalent in money.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 09-09-2024 17:53:49
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