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“Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption. She looked, Dorothée said, just as she always looks. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. I’m a little tired. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. He put an arm around her.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 24-09-2024 21:27:41