“Well?” she said. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and
trimmed with lace. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with
him. “Odd!” he remarked, rather surprisingly, after a little interval. From the opposite corner under
the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to
pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old
man, her hand held out. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris. “You cowards!”
said Ann Veronica, “put her down!” and tore herself from a detaining hand and
battered with her fists upon the big red ear and blue shoulder of the policeman
who held the little old lady. ‘It is nothing at all of the kind.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExNi4xMC4xMjEgLSAwOC0wNy0yMDI0IDA4OjMwOjQ3IC0gMTc0Mjc5OTAwNw==
This video was uploaded to kooplokaalmontferland.info on 05-07-2024 05:52:05