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He knew not how to act, urged as he was in two directions. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “these gentlemen are your friends, and therefore they are my friends. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. She and Courtlaw drove homewards together. "But calm yourself, dear sister, or the interview will be too much for you.

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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 08-09-2024 14:30:28

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