Something like a snarl crossed his face, and ignoring the pistol, he moved forward, seizing her shoulders. She dare not risk it. ” She replied. “Very likely,” he answered. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. The entire place was a masterpiece of wooden carving, a design of interleaving carried throughout.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQyLjE1Ni4yNSAtIDIzLTA2LTIwMjQgMDU6MjI6MTMgLSAxNjAxMTE4MDQ1
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