My
name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. He’s a
prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. He was standing at the moment close to the hatch, with his ear at the
keyhole, and received a severe blow in the face. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his
wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking
171
about his intimacies with you! Then you became
pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like
the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your
womb pronounced. “That’s what you’re going to wear. What does she look like?’
‘Black hair. ’
Mademoiselle, who had been nodding in agreement at Roding during the first
part of this speech, abruptly turned to face Gerald again. Hurrying in the direction of
the supposed arrest, they encouraged each other with shouts, and threatened the
offending parties with their vengeance.
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This video was uploaded to uggpascherfo.com on 04-08-2024 12:57:39