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The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. In fact, the reflection of the flames lighted up the ward in which Jack Sheppard was confined. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 13-09-2024 11:17:53
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