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“Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. “I want to speak to you. We have to hang about in the interval. He's got the gift of the gab.
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This video was uploaded to siguava.com on 30-05-2024 13:26:08
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