She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. ‘Here she is. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 03-10-2024 04:45:08