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"Thames was always your favourite," observed Jack, as he fastened another piece of wood on the teeth of the iron stopper. Nor was this impression removed as he stole a glance at Mrs. ‘Truth is, it’s Gerald who’s put me in the devil’s own temper, ma’am. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness.
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This video was uploaded to hkbifen.com on 06-06-2024 18:52:50
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