“Your name and address were upon an envelope found in the pocket of an Englishman who was brought here late last night suffering from serious injuries,” he said in a dry official tone. He filled his pipe slowly. They will find me dead, yes. With a moment of inward shame he remembered his deportment towards Anna. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. She was suddenly grave. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 21-09-2024 00:52:06
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