. " "Here you have it, my dear," returned the hawker. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. “I am going,” she said grimly, with three hairpins in her mouth.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 21-09-2024 17:57:15
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