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On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. He was really very bright and clever, with a sort of conversational boldness that was just within the limits of permissible daring. “Damned Rascal!” he said. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 18-08-2024 02:35:53
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