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"I'll have my cot in here," said Spurlock to Ruth, "where this table is. " "It's a queer girl. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 01-10-2024 18:32:35