Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. ’ With pretty imperiousness, she gestured to the bed beside her. “He seems like such a nice boy. "It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets. ” “Well, I have two,” said Mr. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb.
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