Her motherly features creased into anxious wrinkles. She was never able to trace the changes her attitude had undergone, from the time when she believed herself to be the pampered Queen of Fortune, the crown of a good man’s love (and secretly, but nobly, worshipping some one else), to the time when she realized she was in fact just a mannequin for her lover’s imagination, and that he cared no more for the realities of her being, for the things she felt and desired, for the passions and dreams that might move her, than a child cares for the sawdust in its doll. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. The hansom sped through the crowded streets. I'll send you word when I catch him. ” He gave the note to the parlormaid the next morning in an inadvertent, casual manner just as he was leaving the house to catch his London train.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 09-09-2024 13:10:46
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