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She may address me as “Grandfather” if she chooses, since I’m obliged to accept her in that capacity. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. He was shifting to reach his own weapon, which had fallen in between the pews at the back. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing.
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This video was uploaded to erdmanporsche.com on 14-06-2024 04:00:24
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