His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. " "Don't mention such a thing, Sir," interrupted the tapstress. “Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. He meditated, and began a new paragraph. 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. Await me in the coach.
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