Upstairs, in the little dressing-room, the panel was opened by means of tugging a small candlesconce in the wall. My Mom is hell bent on having the biggest, most beautiful house in the neighborhood, my college education be damned. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. What a pity! But why? There was no way over this puzzle, nor under it, nor around it: that men should drink, knowing the inevitable payment. Down there, whisky raises the very devil with white men. Leastways, not on your own.
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This video was uploaded to jiiney.com on 27-06-2024 23:09:42
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