Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. 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. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. She kicked him in the shin, trying to knock him off his feet. " Mr. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did.
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This video was uploaded to probiv.club on 07-06-2024 08:23:49
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