“For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. They fell into step again. “Well, I don’t want you to talk to him,” he said, very firmly. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. ‘What do you mean?’ Gerald grinned. John moved closer to her, getting up from his roost by one bench, he joined her at the bench where she sat.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ5LjIxNC4zMiAtIDMwLTA2LTIwMjQgMDE6Mzc6MzYgLSAxMDY5NzUwMzU3
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