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“As things are at present,” she said, “it is true. I've taught him all he can do; and there isn't his fellow, and never will be again. We have to hang about in the interval. ” Ann Veronica looked at the mildly pensive gray eyes and the comfortable, rather refined face with a penetrating curiosity. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 02-10-2024 18:55:56