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Wood in the deepest mourning. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date.
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This video was uploaded to southwestbyways.info on 19-09-2024 09:33:01
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