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They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers. ‘And I suppose I shall be obliged to endure another nonsensical tale about your husband. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. Vite, I pray you.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 15:53:09