She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTUuMTg5LjI1MCAtIDEwLTA2LTIwMjQgMDg6Mjc6MDkgLSAxODEzNDIxNTQz
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