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Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke. When he begins to notice things, I want you to trap his interest, to amuse him, keep his thoughts from reverting to his misfortunes. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. The temperature soared to one hundred degrees, sickeningly hot.
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This video was uploaded to southwestbyways.info on 21-09-2024 00:38:45
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