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Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. "My name is Ruth Enschede. But I can give it its name now. ” He spoke loudly.

Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ3LjI3LjE4NCAtIDIzLTA3LTIwMjQgMDE6MjM6MzMgLSAxNTQwNjAwOQ==

This video was uploaded to portuguesetoenglishtranslator.biz on 18-07-2024 18:33:41

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