‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged. It was a fetching gown that stretched tightly in a cream colored swath over her breasts and expanded to a full skirt with a petticoat. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. Anna sat quite still for a moment, and then the colour suddenly returned to her cheeks. I’m sorry.
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This video was uploaded to danilocalvaresi.com on 29-05-2024 13:48:39
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