She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying. No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. She’s hated me for no apparent reason ever since Fourth Grade.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQuMTQ1Ljg0IC0gMDgtMDctMjAyNCAxOToyNjoxMCAtIDE5MDYyMzUwMDg=
This video was uploaded to brazilian-portuguese-translator.info on 04-07-2024 11:07:19
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