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His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. I secured the dog after he had wounded me. In the present case it did not matter, as there was no one else within earshot.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 07:03:30