His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. ‘What’s more,’ went on Martha, ‘I knew something Mr Charvill didn’t, or he wouldn’t so readily have left it behind him. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 04:35:37