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“I shall be very glad to have you for a friend,” he said, “loving friend. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. He was well mounted, as was his companion; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle. ‘Say it. Taking the wind was her business in life. He blushed furiously; it was not what he had expected to hear. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. She did not want to go to the doctor's people; however kindly that might be, they would be only curious strangers. I will give you all some tea, and then I must leave you for a few minutes. I was supposed to do the same, but I didn’t. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 10-06-2024 12:53:52
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