Woman's love of silk is not set by fashion; it is bred in the bone; and somewhere, somehow, a woman will have her bit of silk. I’m sorry. And, fearing you might not come to me, I forced my way hither, even with certainty of discomposing your friends. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. She had been sitting on the bench for two and a half hours, which was uneventful except for the homeless men who begged for change. “Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. “Come, daddy,” said Ann Veronica, following her husband and Miss Stanley; and in the fulness of her heart she gave a friendly squeeze to the parental arm.
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This video was uploaded to lewoagencies.com on 02-07-2024 16:20:26
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