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"Poor little creature!" he muttered, pressing it tenderly to his breast, as he grasped the rope and clambered up to the window: "if thou hast, indeed, lost both thy parents, as that terrible man said just now, thou art not wholly friendless and deserted, for I myself will be a father to thee! And in memory of this dreadful night, and the death from which I have, been the means of preserving thee, thou shalt bear the name of THAMES DARRELL. He does not look the criminal. Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim fingers. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky.
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This video was uploaded to probiv.club on 14-06-2024 10:39:56
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