" "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. It must be sent home this evening. Who's the lucky boy, Lucy?\" Lucy looked at her slippered feet. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 05:30:59