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‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. "What for?" demanded Wood. This is no place for me. His tongue was hot. “He naturally does not wish for connexions which are—I do not wish to hurt you feelings, Anna, but I must say it—not altogether desirable. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 02-10-2024 08:08:27