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She looked stealthily at Anna. Of course he hadn't played the game wisely. He stopped before her suddenly. She even hit the jackpot in 1952 when she found a photograph in a London issue of Vogue. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. At this juncture, a cry burst from the child, who, nearly smothered by the weight imposed upon him, only recovered the use of his lungs as Wood altered the position of the bundle. They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air.
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This video was uploaded to siguava.com on 29-06-2024 09:50:06
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