Woman's love of silk is not set by fashion; it is bred in the bone; and somewhere, somehow, a woman will have her bit of silk. They are our food, Lucia, nothing more. " "Never!" rejoined Kneebone, with increased ardour,—"never, till I receive from your own lips the answer which is to make me the happiest or the most miserable of mankind.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 09-09-2024 07:15:35
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