Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. At this juncture, and just as a cuckoo-clock in the corner struck sis, Jack Sheppard walked into the room, with the packing-case under his arm. He sat up in his chair again, the colour came back to his cheeks. They are mine! They were sent to ‘Alcide’ not to you. She lay still for a long time, and her mind resumed at a more tolerable pace. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ3LjQ5LjEwNiAtIDEzLTA2LTIwMjQgMjE6MTE6MDIgLSAxNDU5OTQ0Nzgx
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