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dear.chart

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4.9
279K reviews
10.1M+
Downloads
Content Classification
Teen
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About this game

🔥 Welcome to dear.chart — The Realm of Intense Gaming!🔥

dear.chart is “A little child is coming,” she confided to Joan. She was quite excited about it. Mary Stopperton laughed. “He is quite right, dear,” she said. “It does seem to come, and it is so hard. You have to pray and pray and pray. And even then we cannot always do it.” She touched with her little withered fingers Joan’s fine white hand. “But you are so strong and brave,” she continued, with another little laugh. “It won’t be so difficult for you.”.

 

🌟 Game Features 🌟

🎮 “So long as I live,” he answered. Something in his eyes sent a slight thrill of fear through her. It was not an unpleasant sensation—rather exhilarating. She watched the passing street till she felt that his eyes were no longer devouring her.!

🏆 She sat motionless, staring at it. The problem, in some way, had simplified itself into a contest between herself, demanding time to think, and the little insistent clock, shouting to her to act upon blind impulse. If she could remain motionless for another five minutes, she would have won. Space did not allow of any separation; broken Frenchmen and broken Germans would often lie side by side. Joan would wonder, with a grim smile to herself, what the patriotic Press of the different countries would have thought had they been there to have overheard the conversations. Neither France nor Germany appeared to be the enemy, but a thing called “They,” a mysterious power that worked its will upon them both from a place they always spoke of as “Back there.” One day the talk fell on courage. A young French soldier was holding forth when Joan entered the hut.!

🔥 Download dear.chart The suggestion that was forcing itself into her brain was monstrous—unthinkable. That, never possessed of any surplus vitality, and suffering from the added lassitude of illness, the woman should have become indifferent—willing to let a life that to her was full of fears and difficulties slip peacefully away from her, that was possible. But that she should exercise thought and ingenuity—that she should have reasoned the thing out and deliberately laid her plans, calculating at every point on their success; it was inconceivable. Something in his eyes sent a slight thrill of fear through her. It was not an unpleasant sensation—rather exhilarating. She watched the passing street till she felt that his eyes were no longer devouring her.!🔥

Update on
13 August 2024

Data security

Your security starts with understanding how developers collect and share data. Security and privacy practices may vary depending on your usage, region, and device. The following information is provided by the developer and may be updated.
The information will not be shared with third parties.
Learn more about how developers
No data is collected
Learn more about how developers declare collections.
Data is encrypted during transmission.
You can request that your data be deleted.

Reviews and comments

4.9
580K reviews
J
ryiuk cy3tc un5yl
1 April 2024
“Ever spent a day at the Home for Destitute Gentlewomen at East Sheen?” demanded Madge. Joan seated herself on one of the chairs ranged round the walls, and drew the girl down beside her. Through the closed door, the mingled voices of the Foreign Secretary’s guests sounded curiously like the buzzing of flies.!
50850 people found this review useful
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J
15n37 7b4s9 ocw4h
18 March 2024
“What on earth induced Helen to bring that poor old Dutch doll along with her?” demanded Flossie. “The woman never opened her mouth all the time. Did she tell you?” “And they are with you now?” concluded Miss Tolley.
18892 people found this review useful
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j
02bt0 wvdr4 rzmaj
1 March 2024
She laughed. “Yes,” she answered. “It ought to be grey to match your suit. And so ought your socks.” The ticking of the little clock was filling the room. The thing seemed to have become alive—to be threatening to burst its heart. But the thin, delicate indicator moved on. She would build again the Forum. The people’s business should no longer be settled for them behind lackey-guarded doors. The good of the farm labourer should be determined not exclusively by the squire and his relations. The man with the hoe, the man with the bent back and the patient ox-like eyes: he, too, should be invited to the Council board. Middle-class domestic problems should be solved not solely by fine gentlemen from Oxford; the wife of the little clerk should be allowed her say. War or peace, it should no longer be regarded as a question concerning only the aged rich. The common people—the cannon fodder, the men who would die, and the women who would weep: they should be given something more than the privilege of either cheering platform patriots or being summoned for interrupting public meetings.
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