One who—who—tres. . The place to which you went was not the English Embassy, and the whole performance was a fraud. In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. ‘As to Gérard, I do not know why he does this. And they could talk, they found; and never once, it seemed, did their meaning and intention hitch. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations. He was always deceived by these rustlings which promised wind and seldom fulfilled that promise. That Frenchie, that’s who she is. Here was one that subtly mocked her.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTIuMTA3LjMxIC0gMDItMTAtMjAyNCAwNDoxNTo0NiAtIDE1NDM1OTMwMTM=
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 17:42:57