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Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. Suddenly she thrust her head out of the window. “Um, he took me to the Big Apple. A maidservant held the front door open. She was the consummate mother, even when extremely tired, she missed nothing.
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This video was uploaded to live-sport.live on 21-07-2024 14:44:45
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