She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet
lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman
eyes. A wooden balcony in one of the adjoining houses
was thronged with ladies, all of whom appeared to take a lively interest in the
scene, and to be full of commiseration for the criminal, not, perhaps, unmixed
with admiration of his appearance. She wet some
absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. Mr. He went on with his song, accompanying it
with the most ridiculous grimaces:
"When years were gone by, she began to rue
Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!)
'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she,
'But where is my gallant of high degree?
Where! where!
Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?'
Ho! ho! ho!"
"What are you doing here!" demanded Thames.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 14-07-2024 09:55:58