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It was the last thing she felt like drinking. I kicked the living shit out of him. 'He's a good fellow, and 'twill all end well'. 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. The girl only smiled at him serenely, but she laid her hand for a moment quietly upon his. ‘Talk to me another time.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 22-09-2024 05:57:53
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