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“Once again,” said Miss Meadows. “But this time in parts. Still without expression.” “Fast! Ah, too Fast.” With the gloom of the contraltos added, one could scarcely help shuddering. “Fade the Roses of Pleasure.” Last time he had come to see her, Basil had worn a rose in his buttonhole. How handsome he had looked in that bright blue suit, with that dark red rose! And he knew it, too. He couldn’t help knowing it. First he stroked his hair, then his moustache; his teeth gleamed when he smiled. 去书内
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  • 用户675098 用户675098

    Miss Meadows's strictness in singing and recall the old memory about she and her huaband

    2023-03-16 喜欢(0) 回复(0)

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