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Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. Sheppard. These cogitations were interrupted by the entrance of the doctor. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. All concerned in the dark transaction must have perished. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-06-2024 06:35:17
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