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They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. My father was Colonel Pellissier. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. Don’t try to shield anybody or hide anything. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing. .
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This video was uploaded to erdmanporsche.com on 14-05-2024 16:20:06
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