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by Javantea
—
Oct 2, 2012
Page "fiction" Paragraph 311
from Brown Corpus
«
»
John's reply was like a declaration of war.
Monsieur Favre sat down in his high-backed stall, lips compressed, eyes glinting.
Ablard Corne, a short man with a rotunda of stomach, rose.
Every eye was on him as he began to speak.
Page 1 of 1.
1.804 seconds.
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