She was vaguely happy over this arrangement which put her in the wing across the middle hall, alone. Wood. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. Until now none of her prayers had ever been answered. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. Make haste!" Ruth hurried off to her own room.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 02-07-2024 01:49:18
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