The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. The moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day.
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This video was uploaded to borgodeltaglio.com on 01-06-2024 22:16:15
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