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” He took them from her and read them. ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger. A silver necklace enhanced the dusky beauty of her neck. "And who is this Van Gal—Gal—what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. ” She wondered how much history she could reinvent before losing track of her own lies. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 21-09-2024 15:20:27
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