It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. It was my destiny to have her. I'm about to ring for supper. But you must promise me not to go near that abandoned hussy at Willesden. The daughters, he had hoped, would be their mother’s care.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 28-06-2024 11:07:39
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