Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up. “So, Rhea must have known you for what you are. "Don't look at it, I entreat," she cried. She began to miss him when he was gone during the day and cherish the quiet times he spent only with her. Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ0LjI0My4zMCAtIDExLTA2LTIwMjQgMTA6NTI6MDMgLSAyMTIxMTEzMzYy
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