“These clothes are French, and I’m sure this floppy bow would make a Frenchman of me anyhow. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. I'd like to be alone now. The impassivity of her features changed at last. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQuMjUxLjEyOCAtIDIzLTA5LTIwMjQgMTU6MjM6NTAgLSAzMjY3MDIzMTA=
This video was uploaded to zbrushcore.club on 19-09-2024 13:39:33
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10