He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. She was to fall back amongst the ruck, a young woman of talent, content perhaps to earn a scanty living by painting Christmas cards, or teaching at a kindergarten.
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This video was uploaded to woodsdrivingschool.com on 21-09-2024 23:00:35
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