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‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. Gravely he placed them in his aunt's hand. It filled her with indefinable fear. She was very satisfied about this. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 25-09-2024 06:40:19