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He was not sure that the boy had put himself beyond the pale; merely, the boy's actions pointed that way. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. So far the thing was acceptable enough. A distant suggestion of chalets and a glimpse of the road set them talking for a time of the world they had left behind. ‘Ah, Madame Joan.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 25-09-2024 14:46:42