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” She was silent for a time, with her nose on the pillow, and that brought her to: “What’s the good of pretending? “I love him,” she said aloud to the dim forms of her room, and repeated it, and went on to imagine herself doing acts of tragically dog-like devotion to the biologist, who, for the purposes of the drama, remained entirely unconscious of and indifferent to her proceedings. And her kind of love forgives everything and anything but infidelity. "I must tell you," she was saying. I don’t see that men need bank it with the women. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. So I ran away, blindly, knowing nothing of the world outside. " Spurlock's glance shot up, flaming again.
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This video was uploaded to av104.love383.xyz on 19-05-2024 19:29:49
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