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Ruth went on to explain. “No, those are my brother’s dog tags. It is a precaution merely. ‘Bête!’ Gerald caught her hand as she pulled it back to deliver another blow. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. ‘Maman?’ ‘How touching,’ said a sarcastic voice behind her in French.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 08:44:21