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“We’ve never known anyone who can play like you, Lucy. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. It was the girl. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. It was as if he could smell it on her. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. If she mentioned Ramage he might have a fit—anything might happen.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-06-2024 08:55:26
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