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” “I think,” Lady Lescelles said, putting down her teacup, “that I must send Nigel to plead his own cause. It was you! It was exactly you, but it was probably the photo they thought it was your mother! I dug it up after combing the Reader’s Guide To Periodical Literature for like, six hours straight. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. "The Wastrel seemed to take it all right.
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This video was uploaded to pok-ddal23.live on 08-06-2024 10:32:35
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