Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. . It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. Almost light-heartedly. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. "Why you pretended not to recognize the photograph of the young fellow you toted around these diggings all day yesterday. " She wanted to dance.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTIuMTA3LjIwMSAtIDIyLTA3LTIwMjQgMTM6MjY6MTYgLSAxMTE0ODM5ODky
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