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"Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. "You needn't go far to do that," returned Quilt; "there he stands. " And, as he spoke, he took up a sheet of paper, and hastily traced a few lines upon it. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-09-2024 13:57:50