She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. Her confession was still unmade. Thank you for walking me home the other day.
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This video was uploaded to launchmysitenow.com on 24-06-2024 14:21:28
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