He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. But Gerald wouldn’t hear of it. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her.
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This video was uploaded to motorsport-fotografie.info on 31-05-2024 11:17:45
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