If there is any drinking, I'll do it. If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. Suddenly she became aware of the fact that he had brought no lunch. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. ” She shook her head. Immediately he grasped the fact that there was drama here, probably the old drama of the fugitive.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNC4zMS40MSAtIDIzLTA2LTIwMjQgMDU6MTU6MjYgLSAxODQ4ODYwNjU0
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