"Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. On that night, I surrendered myself to Jonathan Wild, and became— what I am. That is why they are permitted to rush in where angels fear to tread—and survive their daring! This supreme protection, this unwritten warranty to disregard all laws, occult or apparent, divine or earthly, may be attributed to the fact that none but young fools dream gloriously. " The phrase was new, but Ruth nodded understandingly. "Wretch!" cried Jack. Wild is incapable of such baseness.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 24-09-2024 11:40:50
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