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. Once more cheered by daylight, he hastened forward, and entered the chapel. Kneebone's cheeks glowed with rage, and he set down the wine untasted, while Blueskin resumed his song. Usually it was fish sticks and reheated noodles. Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief in the neighborhood, no one wanted to see how those kids would grow up.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ0LjM1LjE3MCAtIDA5LTA3LTIwMjQgMTQ6MTA6MDUgLSAxMTY4NDU5ODEz
This video was uploaded to smicorporate.biz on 09-07-2024 01:21:20
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