Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. Anna stood looking down upon her sister with grave perturbed face. ’ He glanced at the portrait behind her.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1LjIwMi42MSAtIDIyLTA5LTIwMjQgMDE6NTE6NTMgLSAxOTM2NzkxMjcz
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 17-09-2024 11:44:43
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10