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Work becomes distasteful; one thinks of holidays. . Anna looked at her curiously, and with sinking heart. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 05:19:25