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A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. To have sprung this upon them to-night would have been worth a thousand pounds. "Of yourself," he replied, in a mournful tone.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 03-07-2024 10:41:51
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