‘A word, if you please, my friend. “Ass!” he went on, still warming. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. Drummond, who had been about to speak, refrained. ’ Kimble’s widening gaze told its own tale, but still he kept his fingers on the handle of the door.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 12-09-2024 10:21:23
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