She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. "My little fancy man's quite as fond of me as of you, Bess. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. " "That I will," replied Jack, "in the twinkling of a bedpost.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 09-09-2024 22:40:17
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