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Dese ere not schouts, as you faind, but jonkers on a vrolyk; and if dey'd chanshed to keel de vrow Sheppard's pet lamb, dey'd have done her a servish, by shaving it from dat unpleasant complaint, de hempen fever, with which its laatter days are threatened, and of which its poor vader died. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is. “I wondered. Nice lady. If only one might open the shutters and let in the light.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 22:44:59