The door was then locked, and he was left alone. She looked in the rear-view mirror. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. 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. But of what avail is this? You have no execution, no finish.
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This video was uploaded to warmfuckclips.com on 18-09-2024 14:51:30
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