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All through the love music of the second act, until the hunting horns of Mark break in upon the dream, Ann Veronica’s consciousness was flooded with the perception of a man close beside her, preparing some new thing to say to her, preparing, perhaps, to touch her, stretching hungry invisible tentacles about her. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. What right had she to call herself “Alcide”? It was abominable, an imposture. Here I am as an alternative either to nasty work—or going home. And she felt that if she went home it was imperative to pay.
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This video was uploaded to tructiepcauthongthuongde.org on 22-09-2024 20:15:55
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