This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. Quite right. I don’t care! I’m glad I did. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. “I had no idea that it was so abominably late.
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This video was uploaded to mine-tec.com on 01-06-2024 11:09:26
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