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It has been said, that the pier of each arch, or lock of Old London Bridge, was defended from the force of the tide by a huge projecting spur called a starling. As he passed along the main thoroughfare, he heard his own name pronounced, and found that it was a hawker, crying a penny history of his escapes. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck. A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. Panic leapt into his eyes as he brought his wrist up just in time to parry the blade. Free, there is nothing left to her but the canal.
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This video was uploaded to motorsport-fotografie.info on 13-06-2024 14:13:39
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