It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. The curtains which she had left drawn were open, and the electric lights were turned on. We were alike. Silken open robes over full tiffany petticoats in a contrasting colour were, Lucy assured him, of the very latest Parisian design, cut by the finest French tailors. Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke. He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. Never had her father explained.
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This video was uploaded to erdmanporsche.com on 02-06-2024 11:50:44
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