“To begin with, I was—I was in the divorce court. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. I—In fact, I dislike him extremely. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly.
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This video was uploaded to lewoagencies.com on 29-06-2024 20:41:20
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