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Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. "If I were so, I should not be here," returned Trenchard. Several people were passed out on the sectional sofa, and muffled noises emanated from other rooms indicating that the party’s embers were still smoldering, but John was nowhere to be seen. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. Light the lantern. ‘Hates doing the pretty.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 14:32:25