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The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated. “Please, Michelle, let’s not fight. "I find I was in error. Light the lantern. You see—I didn’t understand. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper.

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This video was uploaded to siguava.com on 19-05-2024 06:15:56

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