She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. And Doctor Ralph stood by looking considerate. Now you can understand why every minute is a torture to me.
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This video was uploaded to practical-tool.shop on 08-07-2024 16:41:15
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