“He fell over at my feet,” she continued. . She mewed weakly, “Sebastian? What have you done? Where is Gianfrancesco? Did you kill him?” He crossed his arms. "I do not see him. ’ ‘The Frenchie? I only knows as how Miss says he will ruin everything. ” “I had to,” she repeated. The summer arrived, speeding the Plague and with it the famine in the streets. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. Not wisely but too well. If you hang Jack Sheppard, you'll cut off the flower o' the purfession.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDEzLjU4LjIyMi4xNjIgLSAxMC0wNi0yMDI0IDEyOjMyOjQ5IC0gNTYwNzI5NzU4
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