The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. He returned the locket without comment. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it.
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This video was uploaded to sport-caps-making.info on 08-06-2024 13:47:51
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