‘Oh, I don’t wish to marry you. Drummond smoked his cigarette meditatively. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTYuNzYuMTA4IC0gMDItMTAtMjAyNCAwNDo1Nzo0OCAtIDE1ODAyODQ5NDA=
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 16:56:51