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“Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. I shan't let you off a farthing. " "Nonsense!" cried Wood; "while there's life there's hope. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. —'How so?' says I. I’ve never had these crying fits before. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. It was red and chapped.
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This video was uploaded to pleroma.gnusocial.club on 30-06-2024 22:27:39
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