"These writer chaps are queer birds. He threw her on the bed. Businesswomen in pointy-toed shoes swooned coyly in his direction, tipping their noses over their glossy magazines to admire 273 him. She spoke slowly. Wood, delighted at the idea. “Begin violence, and the woman goes under. “Looooo-ceeeeee!!” He yelled, sounding like Desi Arnaz. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. ‘You did not find Gosse, that is seen, but—’ ‘Gosse? Gosse? Who’s this here Gosse then?’ ‘He is the Frenchman of whom I told you. I don’t think they do matter. Think if your own mother was alive!” He paused, deeply moved.
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This video was uploaded to southmsnightout.com on 26-06-2024 14:03:50
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