our sparkful youth
Lord John Roxton and I turned down Vigo Street together and through the dingy portals of the famous aristocratic rookery.
The process is quite simple: with the sheep firmly planted in the boots, the shepherd — let’s call him Rumplestiltskin for arguement’s sake — sneaks up behind the sheep (or the singular shoop) and inserts his feet in the boots behind the shoop.
After the visionary's death, work on his ideas ground to a halt.
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