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<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="1" width="100%" class="forumline"> <tr> <th class="thCornerL" width="22%" height="26">Autor</th> <th class="thCornerR">Wiadomość</th> </tr> <tr> <td width="22%" align="left" valign="top" class="row1"><span class="name"><a name=""></a><b>john3859</b></span></td> <td class="row1" height="28" valign="top"><table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tr> <td width="100%"><img src="http://picsrv.fora.pl/subBlack/images/icon_minipost.gif" width="12" height="9" alt="Post" title="Post" border="0" /><span class="postdetails">Wysłany: Pon 12:21, 14 Lut 2011<span class="gen"> </span> Temat postu: Some awful</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><hr /></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><span class="postbody">e tried to bite or kick Slone, but he was meek <br />under Lucy's touch. <br />But this morning there came to Lucy the first vague doubt of herself. <br />Once entering her mind <span style="font-weight: bold"><a href="http://www.louisvuittonoutletbiz.com/" target="_blank" class="postlink">authentic purse outlet</a></span>, that doubt became clear. And then she vowed <br />she liked Slone as she might a brother. And something within her ac- <br />cused her own conviction. The conviction was her real self, and the ac- <br />cusation was some other girl lately born in her. Lucy did not like this <br />new person. She was afraid of her. She would not think of her unless she <br />had to. <br />"I never cared for him—that way <span style="font-weight: bold"><a href="http://www.airjordanonlines.com" target="_blank" class="postlink">women's jordan heels</a></span>," she said, aloud. "I don't—I <br />couldn't—ever—I—I—love Lin Slone!" <br />The spoken thought—the sound of the words played havoc with <br />Lucy's self-conscious calmness. She burned. She trembled. She was in a <br />rage with herself. She spurred Sarchedon into a run and tore through the <br />sage, down into the valley <span style="font-weight: bold"><a href="http://www.louisvuittonclearances.com/" target="_blank" class="postlink">louis vuitton backpack men</a></span>, running him harder than she should have run <br />him. Then she checked him, and, penitent he <br />enquired, petted him out of all propor- <br />tion to her thoughtlessness. The violent exercise only heated her blood <br />and, if anything, increased this sudden and new torment. Why had she <br />discarded her boy's rider outfit and chaps for a riding-habit made by her <br />aunt <a href="http://onlythebestservices.com/rainyforums1/viewtopic.php?p=32226#32226" target="_blank" class="postlink">Dardinelreplied</a>, and one she had scorned to wear? Some awful, accusing voice <br />thundered i</span></td> </tr> </table></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2" height="1" class="spaceRow"><img src="http://picsrv.fora.pl/subBlack/images/spacer.gif" alt="" width="1" height="1" /></td> </tr> </table>
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