“So you come from Anna, do you?” she remarked. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. “I think that I will leave this letter for him,” she said.
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This video was uploaded to southmsnightout.com on 15-05-2024 21:55:35
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