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A very familiar face emerged from a crowd at the impromptu bar on the kitchen island. You do not love your husband, you have married him for a position —to escape from—things which you feared. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 21-08-2024 16:45:44
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