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“Please forgive me. Her aunt leaped unhappily to the thought of penitence. One cannot expect that soldiers can be sympathique to one they believe may be a French spy. My dear—I can call you that here, anyhow—I know that. One chance in a thousand, and that would be the girl. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. The soi-disant Valade escapes and takes my proof, which I have broken on his head. "'Sdeath!" cried Hogarth, aside to the poet.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 02-07-2024 15:18:15
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