But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded. Many’s the young ’un I’ve seen get hisself into just such a knuckleheaded mess all on account of a pretty wench. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. ‘Exactement. Happy Thanksgiving. “Only four spoonsful left,” she declared briskly, “and your turn to buy the next pound, Sydney. The Iovellis were very rich, from what she could tell.
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This video was uploaded to bbdy.space on 03-07-2024 09:34:54
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