“My Mom was a good lady. She still could not muster the strength to leave. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. He remained listening attentively. “I wonder if there is anything wrong with my manners,” she said. Tonight Lucy doled out outré physiological theories of boys and their overactive hormones.
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This video was uploaded to certifiedportuguesetoenglish.info on 05-06-2024 15:41:23
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