"Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. “You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. A woman indeed this to love and be loved, beautiful, graceful, gay. In Old Palace Yard everybody ran. And not a worthy tome in sight. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth.
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This video was uploaded to woodsdrivingschool.com on 22-09-2024 20:26:40
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