Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid. The chamber, into which he stole, like all carpenters' workshops, was crowded with the implements and materials of that ancient and honourable art. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. They don’t count, and I don’t care. “You appear,” she said, without any sign of anger in her tone, and with unruffled composure, “to be a very impertinent person. "I don't think he would," acquiesced the carpenter. Certain of my prey, I can afford to wait for it. ” “Not yet,” he said. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM5LjEwMy4yMDYgLSAxNi0wNi0yMDI0IDE2OjM3OjQzIC0gOTc4OTk2Njc3
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