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Still, his conscience was partly satisfied. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. I don’t know that I understand altogether. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. And mind, your life,—more than your life—hangs upon your choice. I overlooked the mechanical imperfections of your work, the utter lack of finish, the crudeness of your drawing.
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This video was uploaded to southwestbyways.info on 23-09-2024 12:42:20
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