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Whereforth art thou Heathcliffe or Rochester?
I see that no one has chosen Grima, or Saruman, or perhaps even Shagrat.
It is very reassuring to see that Downers of the female persuasion have finally and truly disabused themselves of that old odd notion once prominent amongst the better half that a good woman could marry a scoundrel and reform him.
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I’ll sing his roots off. I’ll sing a wind up and blow leaf and branch away.
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