Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. The baby was placed in her 19 lap. “John, don’t!” she cried. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. If you will think only of one trifling aspect—the inconvenience it must be to us to explain your absence—I think you may begin to realize what it all means for us. Your life is like a funeral March.
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This video was uploaded to ineel.net on 11-07-2024 02:35:07
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