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In her case the barrier was not selfishness but the perception that her interest would be misinterpreted, naturally. "What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. “Really, daddy, I am sorry for all I have done to put you out. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. She was instinctively aware of him as she had been of Julian. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 24-09-2024 16:55:54