The other lay unconscious in a heap. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. “If you come a step nearer to me,” she said, “I will smash every glass on this table. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. She had decided that she would spend the next morning answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. ” “Better say six,” Mr. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQxLjE5Ni4yMzQgLSAyMy0wNS0yMDI0IDA4OjQyOjMyIC0gMTQzNDM3MjE0MQ==
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