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"And who taught it you—the landlord, Joe Hind?" "No; one Blueskin, a fellow who frequents the Lion," answered Jack, with a degree of candour that astonished his master nearly as much as his confidence. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. I warned her not to say a word, for it would mean the death of everyone in the Palazzo, including you. He will tell you confidentially that he simply hates the place. Look at the cock’s feathers, look at the competition there is everywhere, except among humans. That’s why I come to tell you.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 09-09-2024 08:21:23
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