His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. “You wouldn’t. Now then," he added more calmly, "I am ready to die. You seemed to me to be slipping and slipping, and your face was white.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTcuMTc0LjIwNCAtIDIxLTA5LTIwMjQgMTE6MjE6NDggLSAxMzUwMDE0ODU1
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 18-09-2024 17:51:18
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