“Where are they?” She looked around. Light flooded the uncarpeted chamber, revealing the decayed state of the place. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. “I thought you were coming right across the Park. Was he, too, on the way to the beach? What a pity! All alone, and none to warn him of the abject wretchedness at the end of Drink. Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them. That there gatekeeper would’ve called them out again. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air.
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This video was uploaded to thiruvalluvan.com on 18-09-2024 08:36:11
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