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"Who are you?" "A cookie, a nice fat cookie, with a raisin in its centre," coaxed the girl. She was twenty-three years of age, and it will be readily supposed had been sought in marriage by more than one ardent swain. But she had kept her heart whole: nothing in breeches and stockings and long cut-away coat and salutations adopted from the most approved Parisian styles had touched the passions of Lucy Acton. She was like Emma as painted by Miss Austen: she loved her home, she adored her father, she was perfectly well satisfied with her present state of being, she could not conceive anything in a man that was worth marrying for, and being well, she meant to leave well alone..
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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Let us find our sweetest comfortI tried logging in using my phone number and I
was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't
get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call
me instead" option twice but didn't get a call
either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call
me instead fails.There was
“Come, Jethro, Betty’ll carry her li’l white puppykins, pore li’l footsy’s so sore.”
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Conrad
The invitation was accepted with many thanks. A long shiver ran through his tense frame. He opened his eyes slowly. She stood before him! Yes there was no doubt of it, she was there, blue eyes smiling into his, warm fingers sending a thrill through his numbed being. "You seem to have managed the stringin' all right," said the father, examining the wooden ducks on the work bench. "A little too much white on the bluebills, I'd say." "Have you no better clothes than what you wear?" he said..
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