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From: | Lena Tapia |
Subject: | [Gcl-commits] Re: Read |
Date: | Thu, 4 Jan 2007 14:02:19 +0500 |
The cross began to droop toward the ground as the
trooper approached the window in which Paul sat, his gray invalids face framed
by jags of broken glass. The spray of dried flowers on the coffee-table had
overturned; beneath the table, barely visible, lay a dish of crusted custard
pudding and a large book.
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