She turned quickly. Wood!—no," replied the turnkey. If Jack Sheppard could behold his mother in this state, he'd have a lesson he'd never forget—ay, and a severer one than even the hangman could read him. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. They could not have called it a fatal motor accident if he had not been dead.
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This video was uploaded to woodsdrivingschool.com on 19-09-2024 16:27:07
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