. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. Fresh ground, no chicory, and all the rest of it. She had found that proof. Their heads touched again, their arms tightened. “I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 02-07-2024 07:21:51
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