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They drove around town that night in his Buick convertible. “You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 12-09-2024 00:36:15
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