“What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. She had killed him. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. That is how I learned that there were such things as novels. When the carpenter a moment afterwards stretched out his hand, scarcely knowing whether he was alive or dead, he found himself alone.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 02-10-2024 14:50:24