It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. See what you have made of me. "I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. “Wild horses—not if they have all the mounted police in London—shan’t keep me out. “I drink your very good health, Sir John and Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “and I wish you a pleasant journey back to England.
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This video was uploaded to smicorporate.biz on 04-07-2024 14:26:51
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