And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. Well, after all, he seemed to be turning the subject. Only the next of kin.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 23-06-2024 22:37:29
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