“Oh dear, I’m not dressed. I keep on thinking of little details and aspects of your voice, your eyes, the way you walk, the way your hair goes back from the side of your forehead. ‘She’s gone. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. But I can't submit to hear the wellearned reputation of my friend termed an 'infamous notoriety.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 15:31:23