“Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. However this may be, such was the ill report of the place that few passed along the Old Bailey without bestowing a glance of fearful curiosity at its dingy walls, and wondering what was going on inside them; while fewer still, of those who paused at the door, read, without some internal trepidation, the formidable name—inscribed in large letters on its bright brass-plate—of JONATHAN WILD. “He seems like such a nice boy. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTMyLjIxMy4xNzEgLSAwMi0wNi0yMDI0IDExOjU0OjExIC0gMzg0MzgzODg2
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