She had even confided to him how lonely it was in the island. Only last night she saw me, and there was horror in her eyes. Amidship there was also canvas, and like that over the wheel, drab and dirty. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. More strange stories were told of it than of any other house in London.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ3LjU5LjMxIC0gMTktMDUtMjAyNCAwMzo0Mzo1MSAtIDcwNjYxOTMxNA==
This video was uploaded to auctionswatch.info on 15-05-2024 20:10:30
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10
Origin resources: Resource Map: 1 - Resource Map: 2 - Resource Map: 3 - Resource Map: 4 - Resource Map: 5 - Resource Map: 6