“I promise, Lucy. I burned it. With his foodle doo! This carpenter he had a wife, The plague and torment of his life, Who, though she did her husband scold, Loved well a woollen-draper bold. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. "I am twenty," said the girl. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 18-09-2024 06:57:15
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