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. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. You have said a thousand times that there was no shame in you. It isn’t as though I haven’t done well. Your poor cheeks are quite sunken and hollow. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves.
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This video was uploaded to freechristian.online on 09-06-2024 22:45:43
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