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He looked about for his hat, and put it on. Part of his head was swathed in linen bandages. “I am sorry,” he said slowly. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. Each morning his inquiry was properly answered: the patient was steadily improving, but none could say when he would be strong enough to proceed upon his journey. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him.
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This video was uploaded to pornografico.mobi on 03-06-2024 00:28:48
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