“Father,” she cried, “I have to live!” He misunderstood her. I keep my finger on the pulse of things. Anna followed her finger, and looked back into her sister’s face. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. ‘Eh bien?’ She thrust again, from the same place.
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