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It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. She gloried in it: he needed her. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father.
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This video was uploaded to betosfer.xyz on 23-10-2024 11:57:24
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