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The stage manager came out from the wings, and taking her hand led her off. He was no longer in military uniform, and it was evident from his suit of brown brocade that he had been disturbed while preparing for an evening engagement. ‘I suppose you think I can’t manage it myself,’ had complained Captain Roding sarcastically. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars.
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This video was uploaded to probiv.club on 31-05-2024 01:35:35
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