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She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. “Anna! What tragedy has happened, little sister? No lights, no supper, no coffee —and, above all, no Mr. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions.
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This video was uploaded to uggpascherfo.com on 21-09-2024 10:17:49
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