Painting is only one slender branch of the great tree. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. She’s taken my sword. To-morrow night —or rather to-night, for we are fast verging on another day—I propose to lure him out of the house by a stratagem which I am sure will prove infallible; and, then, what so easy as to knock him on the head.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 22-09-2024 23:15:51
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