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Then instinct took over. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. A narrow entry, formed by two low walls, communicated with the main thoroughfare; and in this passage, under the cover of a penthouse, stood Wood, with his little burthen, to whom we shall now return. In fact, the reflection of the flames lighted up the ward in which Jack Sheppard was confined.
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This video was uploaded to borgodeltaglio.com on 01-06-2024 06:40:55
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