‘Danged if I ever hear the like! A Frenchie is what you are, and there ain’t no granddaughter Charvill no more. ” She declared. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. Besides, she will do no such thing. It's never a bad day that has a good ending. . ” “May I put you in a hansom?” he asked, lifting his stick. A woman’s shoe lay on the threadbare carpeting.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExNy4xMi4xOTIgLSAxMC0wNi0yMDI0IDAzOjA2OjIzIC0gODI0MjU3MjQw
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