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Twenty-one, twenty-two. He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck. Romance! The romance of passing faces, of wires that carried voices and words to the far ends of the world, of tremendous mechanisms that propelled ships and trains! And, oh the beautiful books! She swiftly knelt upon the floor and once more gathered the books to her heart. It rather astonished him. “Reuben, come here. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere. "But, I half suspect, of your father. I followed you home on the train. ’ He took his seat next to her, waving the fulminating captain towards the tray. She had fallen asleep. He looked no longer at his wife.
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This video was uploaded to mine-tec.com on 08-06-2024 18:48:47
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