” True summer descended like a sticky fever upon August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that seemed to hang from the trees like mucus. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. ‘Marry an Englishman! Which Englishman?’ Melusine shrugged. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 06:12:59