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Her lips came together with an expression between contentment and the faintest shadow of a smile, her manner was one of quiet reserve, and behind this mask she was wildly discontented and eager for freedom and life. Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. “Happened! Oh, many things,” she declared indolently. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams.

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This video was uploaded to ericcarlepicturewriter.com on 18-07-2024 07:39:13

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