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Then it was the woman herself who was changed. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. Clergymen were human. Taken altogether, his physiognomy resembled one of those vagabond heads which Murillo delighted to paint, and for which Guzman d'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, or Estevanillo Gonzalez might have sat:—faces that almost make one in love with roguery, they seem so full of vivacity and enjoyment. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. He's neighbourly; he has a jingle for every ache and joy I've had. " Ruth brushed her eyes with one hand and with the other signed for the spinster to stop.
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This video was uploaded to adiszena.com on 15-05-2024 21:28:53
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