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At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat.
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This video was uploaded to smicorporate.biz on 11-07-2024 23:35:17
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