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‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. The Bitchster strikes again. I will not be persecuted in this way by you. ’ Charvill eyed the girl with resentment. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. That's well. His face fell.
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This video was uploaded to portuguesetoenglish.biz on 19-06-2024 11:27:21
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