About, What Flour And What Pleasure Was So

About, what flour and what pleasure was so to sit and look here - eyes in eyes!. Anything it was not necessary to speak. It it is hardly audible has moaned, has sharply risen and, ugly dropping to a sick foot, it was literally threw out away from a door. And I remained to sit the patient from the accepted cocktail in which as I understood, have already been added not only pity and respect. Has sat out, has recovered the breath, has come to the senses, has tried to tyre out somewhere in a vault persistently exacting, but an unsoluble question: "Well, why, why it is impossible to be both with that, and with this?" When I went home, a foot for a foot has recollected, what exit - according to a legend - was found from a similar situation by the well-known American writer Jack London. Of it as if have grown fond two equally fine soul and a body of the woman and not to afflict any of them, painfully being tormented with a choice problem, it was shot. I dare to believe that hardly the similar decision has pleased these remarkable ladies, certainly worthy its love.