The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him.
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This video was uploaded to probiv.club on 24-06-2024 01:57:19
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