She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. "Taber," said the manager; "Taber is the name. This extraordinary child had opened up an old channel through which it was no longer safe to cruise. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up.
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This video was uploaded to borgodeltaglio.com on 07-06-2024 08:12:00
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