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‘Either you tell me why you want the wretched animal, or it stays here. And yet to Spurlock it was only the title of a story he would some day write. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. He stopped in mid-sentence, and Ann Veronica opened the door for her aunt. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. I asked him why, and he hadn’t a reason.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 12-09-2024 02:53:19
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