He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. ‘Certainly those are names of the most undistinguished, and I would scorn to have them. ‘That is my mother. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 10:52:47