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His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. "Well, my dear, I've a proposal to make in regard to this babby of yours, which may, or may not, be agreeable. . ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 18:33:08