’ ‘Pottiswick, you mean, miss?’ ‘Yes, yes. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. She had never let off a pistol in her life. But you belong to me—and I want you. She was never able to trace the changes her attitude had undergone, from the time when she believed herself to be the pampered Queen of Fortune, the crown of a good man’s love (and secretly, but nobly, worshipping some one else), to the time when she realized she was in fact just a mannequin for her lover’s imagination, and that he cared no more for the realities of her being, for the things she felt and desired, for the passions and dreams that might move her, than a child cares for the sawdust in its doll. " "I agree to that. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. I deserve pretty much what I’ve got.
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This video was uploaded to pornotravesti.net on 18-05-2024 12:58:59
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