His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. But, bloodan'-'ouns! man, if ould Nick himself were to
hit me a blow, I'd be afther givin' him another. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think
—if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. Nice, of course. I have said
good-bye to it all. I have been very foolish, but it is
over. The young rascal had learnt from some of the women-servants that Lady
Trafford was from home, and was in the very act of making off when I got down
stairs. "Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered
Kneebone, "What's to be done?"
"What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them.
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This video was uploaded to golfrealestateonline.com on 03-07-2024 07:14:13