"There he is!" cried Winifred, starting up, joyfully, and proving by the
exclamation that her thoughts were dwelling upon one subject only. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at
Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed,
in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and
debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. Lose no
time. Two women entered and sat down at the adjoining table. She became exceptionally considerate and affectionate with her
father and aunt, and more and more concerned about the coming catastrophe that
she was about to precipitate upon them. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were
dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a
goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one
recalcitrant horse and leading another.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 29-06-2024 10:37:47