For a stunned moment, Emile did not speak. Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. I’m going up to London with the Widgetts to that ball.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 06-06-2024 14:15:43
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