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The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing. "What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked. Scissors with which to cut her hair, just in case. ” “The truth,” she murmured, with her eyes fixed upon him.
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This video was uploaded to woodsdrivingschool.com on 20-09-2024 01:49:00
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