The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. Anna stood looking down upon her sister with grave perturbed face. She had fallen into it naturally, the only expression of the dance she had ever seen or known, and that a stolen sweet. She blew on the hand cannon and grabbed her bag of gunpowder. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 06-07-2024 13:41:26
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