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She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. ‘Martha was my wet-nurse? But she is unmarried. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War.
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This video was uploaded to mine-tec.com on 09-06-2024 12:22:21
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