To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video
Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect. When I absorb a fact, my brain weighs the fact carefully and stores it away. I am afraid, Anna, just a little afraid, that in Paris I and my friends here might seem a trifle advanced. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. How is she?” “My sister is quite well, thank you,” she answered. What might it have been?’ Mrs Sindlesham shook her head helplessly. ’ ‘Never mind the comtesse,’ adjured Prudence.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTcuMTYyLjIxNCAtIDIyLTA5LTIwMjQgMTE6MzY6MTUgLSAxMjU2NDMxOTE5
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 21-09-2024 11:23:40
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10