She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted
at the front door and the shouting intensified. “Sir John,” her aunt repeated, with thin emphasis, “is coming to see your sister. The hand which the man
had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. Before there is any change, any real change, I shall be dead—dead—dead and
finished—two hundred years!. My mom doesn’t realize that I’ve got my own style. It never has
had. Never had she seemed to him so much like Anna. I must apologize, I
suppose, for speaking to you, but your appearance certainly indicated that you
were in some sort of trouble, and you were becoming—pardon me—an object of
comment to the passers-by. And then her pace slackened. It is easy enough to sing these little
chansons in an original way—it requires a very different sort of ability to
succeed on the stage.
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This video was uploaded to gnusocial.club on 03-07-2024 14:31:42