One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. Plote was sleeping or deaf. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. The dinner was stranger than she had ever anticipated. She had tried him as a Crusader, in which guise he seemed plausible but heavy—“There IS something heavy about him; I wonder if it’s his mustache?”—and as a Hussar, which made him preposterous, and as a Black Brunswicker, which was better, and as an Arab sheik. I'm glad of it, I'm sure; for it's all owing to him his poor mother's here. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ3LjY4LjEzMyAtIDA2LTA3LTIwMjQgMDI6MDA6NTcgLSAyNzA2NjMzMDI=
This video was uploaded to brazilian-portuguese-translator.info on 04-07-2024 03:26:18
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9
Origin resources: Resource Map: 1 - Resource Map: 2 - Resource Map: 3 - Resource Map: 4 - Resource Map: 5 - Resource Map: 6 - Resource Map: 7 - Resource Map: 8