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When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. ‘I have an excellent excuse to remain comfortably ensconced in my parlour here, able to indulge in my favourite pastime. A-L-I-V-A—Aliva—T-R-EN—Trencher that's it. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. I throw up work—everything! I just teach in one school, one good school, three days a week. "Is she dead?" "No—no," answered Hogarth.
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This video was uploaded to adiszena.com on 06-06-2024 10:35:12
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