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“Come right in,” he hissed under his breath, with the true conspirator’s note, closed the door very softly and pointed, “Through there!” By the meagre light of a gas lamp she perceived a cobbled yard with four large furniture vans standing with horses and lamps alight. Ruth could not be told now. They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside.
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This video was uploaded to tructiepcauthongthuongde.org on 04-07-2024 04:35:32
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