The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. What was his problem, she thought to herself. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. She wanted to take him in her arms and hush him, but she sat perfectly still. . . It's almost worth while being sent to prison to have the pleasure of escaping.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 03:47:37