His name is John. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. Least of all myself. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 01-06-2024 01:38:17
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