She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. It was his turn to express astonishment. "Oh, nothing—nothing," returned Mrs. She had heard the trader utter it many times. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. But then—Oh! Madam, there are moments—moments of darkness, which overshadow a whole existence—in the lives of the poor houseless wretches who traverse the streets, when reason is well-nigh benighted; when the horrible promptings of despair can, alone, be listened to; and when vice itself assumes the aspect of virtue.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDEzLjU5LjEwNy4xNTIgLSAyMi0wOS0yMDI0IDE3OjIxOjMzIC0gMjQwNzg5NzE3
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 21-09-2024 14:40:23
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