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She was alarmed at how little her husband Gianfrancesco packed for the trip, leaving behind his best scarlet and black lucco, which he wore for every business and political meeting. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. ‘Well, nothing,’ uttered her betrothed crossly, before Gerald could answer. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 05:14:34