After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. Scarcely had it come to a halt, when a stalwart man shouldered his way, in spite of their opposition, through the lines of soldiery to the cart, and offered his large horny hand to the prisoner. I don't believe he is much past forty. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. “Not a bit of it,” he said; “it’s only a score in a game.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-06-2024 13:21:54
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