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“My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low. Lucy could see the resemblance of Martin to both of his parents as plain as day. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. "Zounds! what's that!" he cried, as the noise of a scuffle was heard behind them. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 22-09-2024 18:50:12