If I did not love you en désespoir, I would assuredly blow off your head. 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 are one of the Immortals.
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This video was uploaded to southwestbyways.info on 19-09-2024 07:05:19
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