Sunday, 138C2, midnight Thomas Hardy probably did not go around with a smirk on his face, dicking his fingers and
... Sunday, 138C2, midnight Thomas Hardy probably did not go around with a smirk on his face, dicking his fingers and humming a showtune. It is unlikely that he counted among his possessions a watersquirting buttonhole. A gloomy chap, all in all, much given ...