“I can’t imagine what has come over you,” said her aunt. Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Besides, I'm afraid her simple honesty will spoil any invented yarn.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 23:28:52