"Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?"
"Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease,
arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. 32
The curtains and tapestries had appeared over the
windows before Marina had died, growing moldy from
the dampness and the oils of lavender, clove, and clary
sage soaking them. The door was closed—
locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. Take me to the Stone Room. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. “In the end,” it seemed to be thinking, “they embalmed me
with the utmost respect—sound spices chosen to endure—the best! I took my
world as I found it. "
"I do not doubt it," retorted Winifred, scornfully; "because I attach credit neither
to one nor the other.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 07-07-2024 02:14:05