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The burden of decision had been transferred. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. His sword then came in for his scrutiny: he felt at, and appeared satisfied with its edge. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 06:02:07