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Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. "Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 21-09-2024 02:06:11
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