"Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. I was in hopes you'd be content with my hat and wig. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. . She could think of nothing more to say. She found an old drunk wandering the streets.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 21:44:55