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E. Spurlock bent his head to the rail. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. The freezing water reached her chin and she felt the heat of her body dispersing, creating a disappearing patch of warmth as her limbs froze. This was what he missed. Don't worry about me. His patient was distinctly of a different order of life. There is a musical programme, and we have the windows open and blinds up, and a pink lamp shade over the piano lamp—a sort of advertisement of the place, you know. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 23-09-2024 19:23:00