"Do you think I would take a harlot to my bed, if it didn't suit my purposes to do so?" "He says right," replied Mrs. “It’s okay, Michelle. I had not the time to formulate the decoctions that would have saved him— they take weeks to create and must come from your own blood! You were perilously close to death, and had I not watched you constantly for the week you were unconscious they would have buried you alive! Gianfrancesco was ready to give up after two days, 172 ready to throw you in the plague cart! Of course he had no use for you after bearing witness to the loss of your womanly organs. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-05-2024 09:15:46
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