She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. Through that she had to go. The Master of the Mint.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMjIuMjQ4LjEzMiAtIDIyLTA3LTIwMjQgMDg6MTQ6NTYgLSAxOTAxMDkzMDAx
This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 19-07-2024 09:21:46
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10
Origin resources: Resource Map: 1 - Resource Map: 2 - Resource Map: 3 - Resource Map: 4 - Resource Map: 5 - Resource Map: 6 - Resource Map: 7