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It’s not like we’re getting married. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves, cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;" accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam. One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. I am quite sure that I do not know you.
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This video was uploaded to warmfuckclips.com on 22-09-2024 05:46:27
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