“My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. “Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. I'll teach you submission in time. “I do not suppose he will be home till late.
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This video was uploaded to woodsdrivingschool.com on 19-09-2024 14:11:37
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