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. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. Evidently her foresight has saved me a funeral. “Martin, you realize that I’m dating someone, don’t you?” She knew his reply before he uttered it. Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it. She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. The pistol, it was not loaded. Going involved two things that all Ann Veronica’s tact had been ineffectual to conceal from her aunt and father.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 20-09-2024 03:03:49
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