“To begin with, I was—I was in the divorce court. I’m in a mess—a nasty mess! a filthy mess! Oh, no end of a mess! “Do you hear, Ann Veronica?—you’re in a nasty, filthy, unforgivable mess! “Haven’t I just made a silly mess of things? “Forty pounds! I haven’t got twenty!” She got up, stamped with her foot, and then, suddenly remembering the lodger below, sat down and wrenched off her boots. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. She had made her first fight for dignity and freedom as a grown-up and independent Person, and this was how the universe had treated her. But I am not worthy to be any man's wife —far less his wife.
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This video was uploaded to pok-ddal23.live on 05-07-2024 09:05:51
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