" The Wastrel tried to reach Ruth's lips. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 02-10-2024 04:56:51