" The Wastrel advanced. \" He said. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. “We’ve never known anyone who can play like you, Lucy. ” Miss Stanley reflected as Ann Veronica went toward the house. All human food tasted equally dead and loathsome to her, whether it was prime steak or cheap hamburger. For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds. Here are their letters. Listen.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ0LjE1Ny4yMDkgLSAwMS0wNi0yMDI0IDIzOjMxOjQ3IC0gMjYxODc0Njg1
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