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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>snoopy9438</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/xeon/images/icon_minipost.gif" width="12" height="9" alt="Post" title="Post" border="0" /><span class="postdetails">Wysłany: Pią 22:47, 25 Mar 2011<span class="gen"> </span> Temat postu: louis vuitton necklace|Isaac Asimov - Foundation's</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><hr /></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><span class="postbody">I got to do?" <br /> "Just a signature. That's all they expect. This is my copy of The Curved Prow. I would be so grateful if you'd just write a little something..." <br /> Martins took his pen and wrote: "From B. Dexter, author of The Lone Rider of Santa F? <span style="font-weight: bold"><a href="http://www.louisvuittonoutletclearance.com" target="_blank" class="postlink">louis vuitton necklace</a></span>," and the young man read the sentence and blotted it with a puzzled expression. As Martins sat down and started signing Benjamin Dexter's title pages, he could see in a mirror the young man showing the inscription to Crabbin. Crabbin smiled weakly and stroked his chin, up and down, up and down. "B. Dexter <span style="font-weight: bold"><a href="http://www.louboutinshoesstores.com" target="_blank" class="postlink">shoes christian louboutin</a></span>, B. Dexter, B. Dexter." Martins wrote rapidly--it was not after all a lie. One by one the books were collected by their owners: little half sentences of delight and compliment were dropped like curtseys--was this what it was to be a writer? Martins began to feel distinct irritation towards Benjamin Dexter. The complacent tiring pompous ass <span style="font-weight: bold"><a href="http://cheapchristianlouboutinheels.com/" target="_blank" class="postlink">genuine christian louboutin</a></span>, he thought, signing the twenty-seventh copy of The Curved Prow. Every time he looked up and took another book he saw Crabbin's worried speculative gaze. The members of the Institute were beginning to go home with their spoils: the room was emptying. Suddenly in the mirror Martins saw a military policeman. He seemed to be having an argument with one of Crabbin's young hyilai：<span style="font-weight: bold"><a href="http://www.nikehighheelsforwomen.com" target="_blank" class="postlink">nike heels for women</a></span> <br /> <br /> <br /> <a href="http://www.yupitsreal.com/forum/showthread.php?p=260311#post260311" target="_blank" class="postlink">Isaac Asimov - Foundation's Edgefhz</a></span></td> </tr> </table></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2" height="1" class="spaceRow"><img src="http://picsrv.fora.pl/xeon/images/spacer.gif" alt="" width="1" height="1" /></td> </tr> </table>
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