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If he wished, he could even take this inheritance from her. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. “You have them both,” Anna answered.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 24-06-2024 06:35:59
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