The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. \"I don't eat lunch. What a girl of sixteen cares for is hair and a high color and moonlight and a tenor voice. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ3Ljc3LjI1MCAtIDI0LTA5LTIwMjQgMDg6MjA6NTMgLSA5NDEwNjk3OTY=
This video was uploaded to woodsdrivingschool.com on 20-09-2024 01:39:54
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10 - Ref11