It slipped out—as did that “she”. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. You say you love me and want to marry, but those are strong, potent words, words meant to last a lifetime.
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This video was uploaded to woodsdrivingschool.com on 20-09-2024 23:09:18
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