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"My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister’s side and took her hand. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. He worried me to marry him. His ideas about girls and women were of a sentimental and modest quality; they were creatures, he thought, either too bad for a modern vocabulary, and then frequently most undesirably desirable, or too pure and good for life. It begins with that queer piccolo solo.
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This video was uploaded to twincitieshomes.info on 19-09-2024 17:06:06
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