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"Comfort yourself, my charmer," said Mr. Sheppard," cried the carpenter's wife bitterly; "and, I repeat, Bedlam's too good for her. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. "These writer chaps are queer birds. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 01-10-2024 04:13:20