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. “I suppose some one makes a bit on the food,” she said. I've foiled him hitherto, and will foil him yet. ‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear. I'd like to be alone now.
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This video was uploaded to adiszena.com on 26-06-2024 21:33:30
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