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“Oh, Lord!” she said, discovering what she was up to, and dropped lightly from the fence upon the turf and went on her way toward the crest. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. The small bed’s hospital corners had been put into disarray by Michelle’s crying fit.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 30-06-2024 16:48:01
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