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You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. Ann Veronica, who knew her dress became her, dropped a curtsy to her father’s regard. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 24-09-2024 13:17:56