It comforts him when he is most forlorn. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. The knight, who could ill brook this familiarity, instantly arose. What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-09-2024 20:15:34