" At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. I'm no great judge of these articles, Ma'am; but I trust to your honour not to palm off paste upon me. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 03-07-2024 13:42:19
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