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Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. ’ ‘Well, don’t blame me if you get your head blown off. I'll tell you what. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. She lifted her shoulders in an eloquent shrug. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. "Only my darbies," returned Jack, clinking his chains. So I asks the maid a few questions like, and it seems it ain’t Mister Charvill they’re going to visit again, but General Charvill.
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This video was uploaded to obatperkasaimport.biz on 04-07-2024 20:40:01
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