It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. “You have even her name. Here again the clothes were minus the labels. I haven’t taken much account of it until now. But I’d have done it without, though it weren’t my place. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck.
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This video was uploaded to borgodeltaglio.com on 13-06-2024 06:45:19
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