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"Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. ‘We may have to,’ Gerald answered thoughtfully, staring at the window to one side. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. The island was snake-free. He jumped out of his own side once again and ran around the car to open hers in another theatrical display of chivalry.
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This video was uploaded to bbdy.space on 08-06-2024 12:04:00
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