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Wood, sharply. "Call as you please, beloved girl," he cried, "I will not stir till I am answered. She was beautiful once, Lucia. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. When he left these premises, three years ago, I took them from him; or rather—to deal frankly with you,—he placed me in them rent-free, for, I'm not ashamed to confess it, I've had losses, and heavy ones; and, if it hadn't been for him, I don't know where I should have been. “What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must. ” “It was a mistake,” she faltered. "To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 11:37:45