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‘Think it’s worth getting some sort of light and following her down there?’ asked Roding. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. Her figure was, in some measure, hidden by a large scarf, and a deep hood drawn over the head contributed to her disguise; still it was evident, from her lofty bearing, that she had nothing in common, except an interest in their proceedings, with the crew by whom she was surrounded. Spurlock halted in his tracks.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 18-09-2024 02:07:16
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