His
shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were
stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his
head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged
hat. I've been thinking about it ever since morning. "The door!—the
door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am
unarmed. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s
many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that
surveyed its operations. . They walked two by two to the car, looking the part of
267
two weary spouses supporting their drunken mates after
an all-night bender. ”
“Lydia Languish, for example. Inhuman as he is, he would not kill her. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion
demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin,
with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set
about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist.
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This video was uploaded to parabolanews.com on 03-07-2024 08:41:37