She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall. Hanging about! And they start thinking and asking questions, and begin to be neither one thing nor the other.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ5LjI5LjIxMCAtIDEzLTA3LTIwMjQgMDM6NDE6MjAgLSAzMjk1Njc5OA==
This video was uploaded to probiv.club on 08-07-2024 08:58:24
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