\"Where have you been, young lady?\" Mike crooned, a
large grin on his fat Irish face. “I shall probably want you to come down to the ‘Unusual’ to-morrow morning,”
he said. But I don't look for peace on this side the grave. Without a single ornament about her neck, or hair, wearing the plainest
of black gowns, out of which her shoulders shone gleaming white, she was
easily the most noticeable and the most distinguished-looking woman in the
room. You have
made enough sacrifices for her surely without this. Sometimes the music would be tender and
dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so
gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be
like the storms crashing, thunderous.
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This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 03-07-2024 10:45:54