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Stanley was
throughout enigmatical, with an anxious eye on her husband and Alice. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the
veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. ‘But then again, possibly not. The ambitions of his life, and they were many, seemed to
lie far away, broken up dreams in some outside world where the way was rough
and the sky always grey. She could smell him almost as
strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape
walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester
smell of his wet umbrella. Honestly, I never did. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound
books—which, she realised, were not books at all. It was—in
connection with this man Hill.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 11-07-2024 08:38:12