‘I take it that you like this great-niece of mine?’ ‘One cannot help but do so. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. I’ve bored you or something. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 22-09-2024 16:39:50
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