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The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. He was in a position to help her. At length she hit upon it: bubbling water. But it was hopelessly hard to put. “I am a fool,” he said. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 08:18:09