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It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. ’ Gerald controlled a quivering lip. I can’t even make myself care. She had followed a bobbing white hat and gray jacket until she reached the Euston Road corner of Tottenham Court Road, and there, by the name on a bus and the cries of a conductor, she made a guess of her way. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. There is a musical programme, and we have the windows open and blinds up, and a pink lamp shade over the piano lamp—a sort of advertisement of the place, you know.
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This video was uploaded to ccc999.shop on 18-05-2024 02:55:47
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