Uzun zaman önce, düşsel bir dünyanın derinliklerinde, gökyüzü mavisi bir denizin kenarında küçük bir balıkçı köyü bulunuyordu. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. Her little white hand stole across the table.
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