He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. “And where are YOU going?” he said. “Not at all. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. Why was he there? why did the tempter dare to invade that sacred spot! She could not answer her own questions, but vague fearful suspicions passed through her mind. There was a flash and a loud report.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 01-07-2024 12:09:40
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