It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. Glancing around his prison, he began to think it possible he might effect an escape from it. 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 wish a reason for jealousy? Eh bien, you may have it. “I am afraid,” he said to Anna afterwards, “that it was a mistake to order the champagne sec.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 12-09-2024 11:13:36
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