She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. She would then partially recall the items that she had heard about him, presenting each at the angle that was the most likely to inflict pain. His last actions were futile. “For better or worse. I hope that she is okay.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM3LjIxMC45NiAtIDA5LTA2LTIwMjQgMTk6NTk6MTIgLSAxMzkyNjAxNTI3
This video was uploaded to erdmanporsche.com on 06-06-2024 10:46:20
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