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It’s the public entrance. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. “That,” she answered, “is far easier to believe. Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. Pity he's ta'en to bad ways so airly.
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This video was uploaded to tructiepcauthongthuongde.org on 18-09-2024 01:04:49
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