Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. Place a pistol at my ear, and shoot me, if I've told you false.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ0LjQ1LjEzNyAtIDEyLTA1LTIwMjQgMTA6NDc6NDMgLSAyMTA0MDg3MzM0
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