To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video
“Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. Sheppard. “Now I should like to know,” she said, looking at him with a quiet smile, “what you are doing here? It is not a particularly inspiring neighbourhood for walking about by yourself. ’ ‘Tchah! Better a doubtful welcome here than a confounded French convent. Always. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. Sheppard, averting her face to hide her tears. With a small saw, conveyed to me a few days since by Thames Darrell, which I contrived to conceal upon my person, I removed a spike in the hatch, and, with the aid of some other friends, worked my way out. Heaven knows why! They don’t marry most of us off now until high up in the twenties.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxNi4xNzEuMTA3IC0gMDEtMTAtMjAyNCAxODozMDo0NyAtIDQ2OTM4MTcyMQ==
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 17:47:11