Oh, you cannot escape from it. . Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. It was true. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 31-05-2024 18:23:08
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