Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. And, when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought my prayers were heard. "Holloa—what's that?" cried Austin, starting up. Fas du tout.
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This video was uploaded to southwestbyways.info on 22-09-2024 02:18:17
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