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She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. Starting off at a rapid pace, Jack dashed down Turnagain-lane, skirted the eastern bank of Fleet-ditch, crossed Holborn Bridge, and began to ascend the neighbouring hill. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. Then her eyes flashed. They sat down at the dining room table which seemed empty and 259 huge in the stark, white-walled room. ’ ‘That’s fortunate,’ murmured Lucilla. How much Mary knew is a mystery. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times.
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This video was uploaded to hkbifen.com on 29-06-2024 14:34:49
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