When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. She longed to enjoy human food as he did. “If you wish,” he said, “I will go there in the morning and see what can be done for him. It is of no use. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man.
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This video was uploaded to erdmanporsche.com on 29-06-2024 07:27:23
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