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She stepped into his arms. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. That ring manifestly occupied her thoughts a great deal. Wild of the circumstance. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. He was looking pale and ill.

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This video was uploaded to folkit.info on 26-04-2024 19:39:35

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