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“I’m ready,” said Ann Veronica, closing her microscope-box with a click, and looking for one brief instant up the laboratory. “Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. But a middle-aged man like Ramage ought to know better than to draw out a girl, the daughter of a friend and neighbor. But two weeks later he returned. Guiding this man of hers over the troubled sea of life had engraved these lines. Sheppard. It was cheating, pitiful cheating.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 17:17:28