‘I cannot possibly shoot a lady, you know. The shock and distress were genuine. 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. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. The lights of the Champs Elysées and the Place de la Concorde, suggestive, brilliant, seductive, shone like an army of fireflies against the deep cool background of the night. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. Both started. I didn’t realize—I don’t see how I can get out of it now. As a matter of fact it isn’t their affair. I had no idea she could go so fast. ’ ‘You ain’t never!’ ‘Back to your post, Trodger,’ ordered the harassed captain.
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This video was uploaded to shootingsportsretailer.info on 01-07-2024 12:42:00
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