She was an Egyptian, from the magical times. "Jack Sheppard," returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. I didn’t believe him and I said so. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTIuMTIzLjE4OSAtIDIyLTA5LTIwMjQgMjM6MjQ6MTAgLSAxMTU0MDYyOTg2
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