"His life—or
yours?"
"No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. "It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the
Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in
a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. She rose, paid her bill, and turned
westwards. What else was there lurked in
shadows and deep places; if in some mood of reverie it came out into the light, it
was presently overwhelmed and hustled back again into hiding. “Well,” he said,
argumentatively, “it IS. ”
“All the more reason why she shouldn’t get herself talked about. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese
tongue. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as
you Yankees say. "Is this a season to speak on such a
subject?"
"Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of
my passion must plead my excuse.
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This video was uploaded to ladyboyroad.com on 27-06-2024 02:56:10