The twilight of one's life
Those at Wyoming were grandly liberal, every dwelling, and every possible decoratable point having received its quantum of bunting and evergreen.
The factory thrusted and pounded, puffed, and its afternoon siren screamed its deafening blast and warning, marking the hour for labourers miles away in the backdams and sugarcane fields of endeavour.
Steve has brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles on his cheeks and nose.
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