"You depart for Lancashire to-morrow. At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted. Be silent, I say, if you value his safety. It was now whitening, hissing, and seething like an enormous cauldron. It was a grand life. The Reaper is not sated yet. ‘And I wouldn’t be no sort of a man if I’d heard what I heard, and gone off and left you.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTI5LjI0OS4xMDEgLSAwOS0wNy0yMDI0IDE0OjQwOjEzIC0gMzM1NjU2MTg4
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