But a far greater affliction was in store for her. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 25-09-2024 01:55:49