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Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. What you did is called manslaughter, and at the worst there is only a very slight penalty, nothing to be frightened about in the least. Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 12-09-2024 18:56:53
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