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Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. “Now,” he said, quietly, “it’s time we stopped this nonsense. "Gentlemen, a little further off, if you please. "I have him!" cried a voice in triumph.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 13-09-2024 18:44:21
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