Ruth was too shy to keep up the conversation by any remark of her own, although his gentle, pensive manner was very winning. shop erotic
"For instance," said he, touching a long bud-laden stem of foxglove in the hedge-aide, at the bottom of which one or two crimson-speckled flowers were bursting from their green sheaths, "I dare say, you don't know what makes this fox-glove bend and sway so gracefully. You think it is blown by the wind, don't you?" He looked at her with a grave smile, which did not enliven his thoughtful eyes, but gave an inexpressible sweetness to his face. tenga flip hole
"I always thought it was the wind. What is it?" asked Ruth innocently.