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I’m in a mess—a nasty mess! a filthy mess! Oh, no end of a mess! “Do you hear, Ann Veronica?—you’re in a nasty, filthy, unforgivable mess! “Haven’t I just made a silly mess of things? “Forty pounds! I haven’t got twenty!” She got up, stamped with her foot, and then, suddenly remembering the lodger below, sat down and wrenched off her boots. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. " "Ay, but it is strange how much it resembles somebody for whom it's not intended. Spurlock had found the typewriter, oiled and cleaned it, and began to practise on it in the night.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 12:39:04