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. One keeps rules in order to be one’s self. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. “Hello? She’s like, your girlfriend, not mine. I can't run in these heavy fetters. The Night-Cellar XVIII.
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