What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. It came into her head with real emotional force that this must be some particularly fantastic sort of dream. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. "Why it is astonishing, certainly," remarked Kneebone, "to find any woman constant—especially to a girlish attachment; but such is the case. I promise not to do it again.
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This video was uploaded to bbdy.space on 09-06-2024 13:23:57
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