"Any price was better than your head. The by now familiar dramatic sigh came. A dovecoloured kincob gown, embroidered with large trees, and made very low in front, displayed to the greatest possible advantage, the rounded proportions of her figure; while a high-heeled, red-leather shoe did not detract from the symmetry of a very neat ankle, and a very small foot. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it.
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