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“I’m fine,” she said softly. Laying these carefully aside, he restored the drawer to its place. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 09:22:29