“I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. I can’t rest or work or settle down to anything while things are like this between you and me. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London.
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This video was uploaded to erdmanporsche.com on 30-06-2024 18:09:42
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