I don’t care if you never tell me any of your secrets. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. But no more of that. We Spurlocks take our medicine, standing. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole.
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This video was uploaded to southmsnightout.com on 01-06-2024 18:21:35
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