"The only disguise I ever put
on is a dress-suit, and I look as natural as a pig at a Mahomedan dinner. You
make a game with me, imbecile. As Leonardo had himself
pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the
unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who
could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them
away?
‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal
her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of
an English lady. Laying these carefully aside, he restored the drawer to its place. Ann Veronica
found herself incompetent, undignified, and detestable, holding on desperately to
a hardening antagonism to her father, quarrelling with him, wrangling with him,
thinking of repartees—almost as if he was a brother. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she
entered the room, her own personal Farhat. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working
son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. ’
Gerald suppressed a grin. Only promise me to amend—to quit your vile companions—and I will
forgive you—will bless you. Vorsack rose from the table and departed for the
bathroom, mumbling something about a Tylenol.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 02-07-2024 12:33:00