A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. It had been a part of the vast domain of the servants in the house’s earlier incarnation. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 14:41:14