小编
❥(^_-):gtwj67
古零潜意识催眠技术培训中级班第1期vfgdr
唯
❤:
gtwj67
唯
❤:gtwj67
小编
❥(^_-):gtwj67
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Denise was as correct as Toni was incorrect. She always said, “Oui, Monsieur,” and “Non, Madame,” in the sweetest little voice imaginable, with her eyes cast down and her plump hands crossed before her. Not a hair of her blond head was ever out of place, and the blue-checked apron which extended from her neck to her heels was as speckless as the white muslin frock she wore in church on Sundays. She was the most obedient of children, and Madame Marcel, when she wept and scolded Toni for his numerous misdeeds, often told him that she wished he were only half as good as Denise Duval, who had never disobeyed her aunt in her life. Toni smiled mysteriously whenever his mother said this, and chuckled inwardly at something known only to Jacques and himself, namely, that when he grew to be a man he meant to marry Denise. What could be better than the combination of a candy shop and a cook shop and bakery?